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cherrysweets-world · 1 day ago

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Eyes of the Gods IX

series masterlist - part eight

Pairing: Caracalla x fem!Reader x Geta

Summary: The emperors isolate you further.

Warnings: 18+, minors dni, unhealthy relationships, controlling behavior, period typical sexism, obsessive/possessive/ relationships, dub-con, sex, light bondage, dirty talk, light breeding kink, historical inaccuracies, manipulative behavior, jealousy, mentions of slaves/slavery,

Word Count: 3.5k

The night passed by in a tumble of hot, languid touches and warm skin. It had been a challenge to convince Caracalla to leave the baths and harder still to keep his hands off of you on the way to his rooms.

He had fucked you again once you got there, had you bent over the bed in a rush of still-damp skin and sharp teeth. He had leaned over you until you were pressed into the bed, a weeping mess, and fucked you dizzy.

Afterwards, he had climbed on top of you and licked the tears from your cheeks, muttering possessive words. It was as though he thought you might disappear at any moment and the only way to prevent it was to hold you so tight it almost hurt.

Throughout it all, you could not help but steal glances at the door. This had irritated Caracalla, even with all the talk before of 'ours' and 'us' and he had let you know just how annoyed he was by biting you rather viciously on the back of the neck.

You dabbed the area with the tips of your fingers, inspecting them closely. Last night there had been blood but it seemed to have healed over now. The distant sting of pain send a thrill up your spine that you staunchly ignored.

There had still been no sign of Geta this morning. Caracalla had been practically dragged from bed by a group of well-meaning attendants. It had been a risky move and you kept expecting him to snap at them but he had been suspiciously pliant. One of the attendants had given you a grateful smile once they were done and you had almost shrivelled up with embarrassment.

Three Praetorian guards accompanied you now. Part of you winced and thought it excessive; the other part remembered the glint of the knife as it slashed at your face. Whilst you resented their presence you appreciated the protection they offered and would not complain.

You walked cautiously around the palace, trying to ignore the three shadows at your back. You had forced yourself to get ready that morning and leave Caracalla’s rooms; you did not want to let your fears get the best of you. The longer you stayed locked up in the emperor's rooms, the harder it would be to leave them.

The Praetorians seemed just as on edge. It was possible that more of them had been executed last night for the slip in security. You had not had the heart to ask and it shamed you but you wanted to shove all memories of attack in a box and throw it away.

You paused for a moment, thinking. Then you turned and dipped down a quieter corridor, heading towards a small entrance and an uneven set of stairs, worn by the feet of hundreds of slaves and workers. You teetered at the top, inhaling deeply. Already you could smell fresh baked bread and grain.

A Praetorian reached out and gripped your elbow before you could go down. "Where are you going?"

"To the kitchen," you said slowly. "My friends are there."

The Praetorian seemed to consider this, glancing round at his fellow guards. When neither of them said anything he let you go, leaning back and securing a hand on his weapon.

Satisfied, you took to the stairs. The armor of the guards clanked and shook as the passage got smaller. You dreaded to imagine what people would think but your craving for a familiar face overtook any humiliation that might have convinced you to turn around.

It felt as though years had passed since you had last stood in this place. The walls were startlingly bare, the floor plain and bumpy. You ran your fingertips over the stone, letting it pick at your skin. You wondered who slept in your bed now.

You passed several slaves and offered them friendly smiles which they did not return. That was okay - they were not your friends. They did not know you from before.

Eventually you peered into the kitchen, more nervous than you wanted to let on. To your relief, Alba was at the table, spooning plain porridge into her mouth whilst chatting with the head cook.

"Alba," you called out.

She blinked at you, her spoon dropping into her ceramic bowl with a clatter.

"It is. . .me," you finished lamely.

There was a brief pause in which she just stared at you. Heart hammering, you cringed and made as if to leave.

"Wait," she cried, jumping to her feet.

When she folded you into a hug, you almost cried. The Praetorians shifted uncomfortably.

Alba's hair smelled exactly like the plain oil you all used to use. Her cheek was soft and smooth against yours. You had hardly had time to miss her and now it felt like all of that longing was catching up to you all at once. You shoved all other emotions aside and tried to just be happy and enjoy the moment.

"Look at you," she gushed, pulling back to gaze at your face. "You look beautiful - like a noblewoman!"

"No," you said shyly, pinpricks of guilt threatening to ruin your good mood. "I - I've been eating better, I suppose."

Alba went still, glancing over your shoulder at the Praetorians. "I was so worried," she said, "that your routine would be different from what you were used to. You know?"

"I know," you nodded, "things have been different but I managed to work it out."

That was a gross exaggeration but you did not want to worry your friend further. Palace gossip had probably kept her informed to a certain extent but there was no saying how much of it had been accurate. If it had been Alba that had been taken, you would have assumed she was getting beaten on the daily and subjected to all kinds of abuse.

"Listen," she said, "I have many duties today. Tomorrow, though, I can make time for you. Will you come back?"

You nodded eagerly. "That would be perfect. I will be back."

You left the kitchen reluctantly, pushed forward by the disapproving looks of the Praetorians. You ignored them and practically skipped back up the stairs. Things seemed a little brighter now that you had been able to talk to your friend.

Tomorrow you would discreetly ask her what kind of rumors she had heard. New ones would no doubt sprout now that you had ventured down to the kitchens but you did not care. The link to your old life had been worn thin; talking to your old friend seemed to strengthen it a little.

Night had fallen by the time Caracalla reappeared in his room. He was flustered and irascible, staring at you longingly on the bed with a twisted frown.

"Geta wishes to speak with me," he continued to frown, eyes dipping past your face and further down south.

"I'll go back to my room -" you started.

"No," he interrupted. "You will stay here now. It is night and the Praetorians will be just outside the door."

You picked up on the unspoken words - do not leave. After the attack, you were more than happy to obey. The darkness creeping into the halls was no longer the safe haven it used to be.

The bed felt cold and empty and you tossed and turned until morning, eager to see your friend once more. You dressed quickly, yanking your clothes over your head and stomping into your sandals. The day felt promising and you were determined to keep yourself busy.

As Caracalla had said, there were Praetorians waiting outside the door. You tried to ignore the prickle of anxiety that fluttered around the back of your head. It was easier to tell yourself that they were only there to keep others not - not to also keep you in.

It was morning now, though, and you were more or less free to roam. The air smelled heavy with the promise of a storm. It felt sticky and thick, urging you to pluck at the fabric of your stola and create a small pocket of cool air. Perspiration beaded on the lips of several of the guards; you did not envy the uniform they wore.

Early morning seemed the best time to see Alba, before she got sucked into the grueling tasks of the day. Even if it was just for fifteen minutes, you were thrilled at the idea of sitting with her and catching up.

You glanced at the Praetorians. Of course, you would be limited on exactly what you could say. Still, idle gossip was better than nothing.

You entered the kitchen with a flourish, half-smile formed on your lips. An unfamiliar woman stood at the giant stove, mixing a batch of porridge intended for the staff.

"I apologise for the intrusion," you said, "but I'm looking for a friend. Alba?"

"Don't know an Alba," the woman replied, continuing to stir.

At that moment, one of the Praetorians cleared his throat. Something about the sound sent dread crawling through your veins. You slowly swivelled to face him.

"My apologies," he grimaced, "but all the kitchen staff were sent away last night. There have all been replaced."

Shaking your head, you plucked at your stola once more, feeling the oppressive heat crowd around you. "No. No. I saw her just yesterday."

"She would have been dismissed after that."

You pushed past them, taking the stairs two at a time. There was no questioning who had done it - but why? There was no part of you that could understand, no matter how desperately you tried.

Overcome by dizziness, you fell forward onto the steps. The rough material bit into your palms as you forced yourself to sit, to breathe. The idea that you may have just ruined your friends life was making you physically sick. You placed one hand at the base of your throat, counting as high as you could.

Hysteria threatened to bloom as you sat shaking. It was fortunate you had come down so early in the morning or you would have been in the way of bustling servants and their duties. The Praetorians looked on with a mixture of pity and something you could not name.

You were still trying to calm your breathing when you noticed a pair of feet on the steps level with your shoulder. Geta looked down at you, taking in your shivering form. He was wearing a black toga lined with golden embroidery, a crown of laurels nestled in the waves of his hair. He looked like a young god, triumphant.

He held out his hand and said your name. "Come."

You took it without thinking, letting him pull you to your feet and lead you out of the staircase. Numb, you followed him all the way to the familiar halls closest to his quarters. The angry part of you demanded that you riot, that you pull away from him and scream your frustrations. It was quietened by reason. You let your brain soothe itself as you stumbled after Geta.

As you expected, he took you to his rooms. Neither of you said anything and it remained that way until you dropped your gaze.

You heard the soft scuffs of his sandals on the floor as he approached you, hand coming up to dust over your cheek. "It is not appropriate for a lady to be scurrying about in the kitchens."

You scoffed and pushed his hand away. "A lady? I am the furthest thing - "

"You are what we say you are!" his chest was rising and falling rapidly. "If we say you are a lady, then it is so. If we say you are ours, then it is so. Why do you insist on these little rebellions?"

Geta had an iron-tight grip on your wrist. Your forearm throbbed in protest but he would not let go. He used your arm to pull you closer until you were chest-to-chest. His eyes were wild with emotion and you had to look away to avoid getting sucked in.

"You do not even know," he shook his head, sneering. "I thought that your night with Caracalla might make you think twice about this sort of thing."

Finally, you yanked your arm away, clutching it to your chest. "It was not a rebellion," you spat, "she was my friend. I wanted to see -"

"Are we not enough?"

Your mouth opened and closed for several moments. Geta stared intently at your face, waiting for his answer. When it did not come - for how could you answer such a thing! - he approached you once again, crowding you against the wall.

You stayed perfectly still as he placed his head in the junction between your neck and shoulder, breathing in the scent of you. His hair tickled the side of your neck. Anger was still fizzing in the air, or maybe it was the storm outside approaching.

"You forget your place. I am an emperor of Rome," he murmured into your neck, "I am all you need."

You did not flinch away when his hand came up to cup your cheek. His eyes were still frantic as they met yours, his hand warm as it held you in place. His other hand came to rest on your chest, lips twitching when he felt the way your heart thundered against his palm.

Geta kissed you like it was his right. His tongue ran over the seam of your lips until you opened, moaning into the kiss. The heat of the day combined with Geta's mouth made your head swim but you did not pull away. You quivered as his tongue began to fuck your mouth, imitating sex with an intensity that left you reeling.

His hands fisted in the fabric at your waist, pulling you from the wall and directing you until the backs of your knees hit the bed. You tumbled backwards, breathless, delirious.

Geta tore at his own clothes. "Tell me," he commanded, "what did he do to you?"

"W-what?" you stammered.

"My brother," he hissed, "where did he touch you?"

Flashes of your time with Caracalla made your throat dry, your thighs clench. Geta climbed onto the bed next to you, cock bouncing against his thigh. Your eyes zeroed in on the precum beading at the tip, your tongue subconsciously swiping across your bottom lip.

His hair was darker than his brothers. You could see the light bouncing off of the tiny hairs on his thighs. His cock was red and angry-looking, dripping with clear fluid. Geta swiped his finger across the tip, smearing his pre-cum against your lips, watching as your tongue dipped out to clean it up.

"I can see that you are thinking of him," he said, snatching your hand, "but he is not the one who is here with you now."

Geta wrapped your hand around his cock, groaned as he used you to stroke himself. His chest was hairless and sweat beaded there, rolled down a path that you wanted to trace with your lips.

Without warning, he began to rip at your clothes. You yelped as your breasts were suddenly free, nipples hardening in the warm air of the room. Geta ducked down to tease them, teeth making you hiss and whine.

His hand continued to travel down to your stomach, resting there for several moments. Then he pulled back, gathering strips of clothing to bind your hands and push them above your head. Your cunt clenched as he made the bindings tight, tugging at them to ensure you could not break free.

"Do not move unless I say otherwise," he commanded.

He peeled the rest of your clothes from you as though you were a dessert he was slowly unveiling. You quivered at the intensity of his attention, certain that he could physically see your heart beating beneath your breast.

Geta straddled your lower legs, eyes hungrily taking in every part of you. Gently, he reached out and traced your areola with his finger, eyes scorching as your back arched to meet his touch. Sweat began to gather on your hairline but you hardly noticed - all you could see, feel, smell was him. That heady scent of him that made you insane.

Splaying his hand at the base of your neck, he bent until his mouth was pressed against your sternum. He was whispering things against your skin but you could not make out his words. Gradually he went lower, lower, until his mouth was hovering above your stomach.

"Such a vulnerable area," he mused, "so many vital things here. Kidneys, liver, stomach. Womb."

You gasped as his tongue delved into your belly button. It sent a desperate pang to your core and your hips bucked wantonly, grinding into his stomach. It was difficult to keep your arms above your head but you did not want to displease him.

Geta sat up, fingers trailing through the wet mess you had left on his stomach. He played with it, eyes dropping to your weeping cunt. His finger dug into your thighs as he pulled them further apart, spreading you wide.

"Your body, at least, is honest," he sounded pleased, "slick, swollen, ready to be fucked. A cunt worthy of an emperor."

You furrowed your brows when Geta settled down next to you. A yelp echoed around the room as he pulled you on top of him, your hands bound in front of you and your cunt leaking against the thick line of his cock. You could not help but tilt your hips, pressing your clit against him and rocking a little.

"Fuck," he swore loudly, "yes, that is - that is what I want. Show me how much you want me."

He pressed your thigh, urging you to balance on your knees as he lined his cock up with your cunt. Your entire body was shuddering as you held yourself above him, letting him rub himself against the petals of your sex.

Geta's fingers curled into your hips, pushing you down. Sinking onto his cock felt like arriving home to find a warm meal awaiting you. Short pants pushed past your lips as you blinked blearily down at him.

His thumb rubbed a lazy circle on your clit, causing you to jolt and rock forward. Both of you moaned at the change in pressure. It felt as if he was pressing somewhere behind your bellybutton, unrelenting and firm.

It took a moment to get the rhythm, but soon you were rolling down onto him like you had been doing it all your life. His cock stretched you wide, left you mewling and trembling. Geta began to meet you halfway, thrusting up into your cunt as you sank down.

"Feels good?" he panted. "I'll give you this whenever you want, just need to obey."

His thumb continued to torment your clit, pulling away any time you began to tightened and threatened to go over the edge. You were seconds away from erupting into tears, seconds away from begging.

"Tell me it feels good," he bit out, using your bound wrists to pull you down harder and harder.

"F-feels good!"

"What feels good?" he pinched your clit, grinning up at you with a carnal smile. "What feels good, sweet girl?"

"Your cock," you cried out, "inside me. You feel good inside me."

That was an under exaggeration. You felt thoroughly fucked; like no one else other than the emperors would be able to make you feel like this again. The pair of you dissolved into a frenzy, clenching fingers, bright eyes and slick sounds. You felt certain that Cupid was in the room, ravaging your mind with lust and desire until Geta was all you could stand to think about.

"Such a good girl," he rasped, "taking all of me like that."

You bit out a whimper at the pleasure that wrapped around your middle, pulling tight as you came undone. You jerked in Geta's hold, at the mercy of your own orgasm and unable to move. He pulled out of you and you mourned the loss, but then he was positioning you on your back and plunging into you once more.

He held your ankles on either side of his head, turning to press kisses and soft bites into the flesh there. His eyes burned into yours as he chased his own end, thrusts becoming sloppy and uncoordinated.

He bit down hard on your ankle as he came, hips stuttering into yours as he fucked his cum deeper inside of you. Just when you thought he was going to pull out, he leaned down and secured his arms around you, rolling until you were resting on his heaving chest.

"My hands," you said, holding up your bound wrists.

"Shhh," he pinched your bottom lip, "later."

You could feel him softening inside of you. It was oddly erotic. He groaned when you shifted, squeezing you until you went still. He was still watching you, even as your eyes began to get heavy-lidded and you could not help but rest your head on his chest.

Whatever barrier there was between you two was now long gone, kept at bay by the feeling of his seed leaking out of you. You felt thoroughly owned and Geta's grip on the back of your neck only reinforced that feeling.

Author’s Note - reblogs/comments/notes/asks are all highly motivating to me so please let me know what you think ♥️

The masterlist has been updated with dates you can expect future updates!

taglist - @only4thefics @doodle-with-rhy @lover-rep-fanfic @claraisme23 @sashaphantomhive @multifandombtch @t6gse370

@merrymunsons @europixie @prestinalove @malfoycassimalfoy

@jovial-cowboy @akamitrani @bocreep @justasmallbean @moompie @duckyhowls @justlibra @mama-frog @fionaapplelover2010

@verypoetrytraveler @darleniweenie

@feral-postings @honey-eyed-munson @an34l @happysparklingshadows @hiroshiro @slaytheusurper @1950schick @quaintquinn @queenofviolenceandnerds @001mon @fandom-princess-forevermore @lostsoldieronahill @boywivlove

#eyes of the gods #fred hechinger #joseph quinn #emperor caracalla #emperor caracalla x reader #emperor geta x reader #emperor geta #gladiator ii #gladiator 2 #caracalla x reader #geta x reader #caracalla x reader x geta

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diorchids · 2 days ago

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C'MON, IT'S JUST THE TIP! w/ luke castellan .

it's your first time and your dear boyfriend promised to only put the tip in. (told ya.)

“just the tip, baby, i promise,” he coos, holding your chin, “i promise.” he carefully slips the tip into your cunt, sucking air in through his teeth.

“‘s keep it there, lukey. don’t move,” your voice soft and breathy. you hold onto the base, softly stroking him as he slowly rocks back and forth. this is enough for you. you can barely take his fingers, so you know you won’t be able to take him fully. this is fine.

but why would it be enough for him? sure, it feels good, but he’s hungry.

can you blame him?

you’re so focused trying to please you and your dear boyfriend that you don’t notice him spitting on your already wet folds. his arm flexes as he leans down to grab onto your waist, getting a good grip before slamming his cock into your tight cunt. he releases a bestial groan, throwing his head back as he bottoms out.

you cry out loud, feeling your pure, tight, soft pussy being broken in, just like that. “l-luke! you—it hurts!”

“shhh, baby, you can take it, yeah? thought you were a big girl?” he whispers, pulling back slowly. you whimper as he withdraws, your tiny body trying to suck him back in. he spits again, using it to lube his length. he spreads your legs wider, lifting your hips higher. you whimper and pout, looking for an ounce of sympathy from him. but… nothing. “b-baby, you said just the tip!”

you see his cock stiffen more as he prepares to push back into you. “i lied,” he mutters, slamming back into you. you howl, trying to push him out. “damn, you're tight,” he growls. he pulls back, then slaps, thrusting deeper. he grips your thighs, spreading your legs wider apart. “been keepin’ this from me for this long? tsk, tsk.” he smiles, clearly enjoying the pain you’re in.

he watches you throw your head back, tears spilling over. you’re barely taking an inch. can’t you calm down? he pulls back slightly, then slams again. “damn it,” he mutters. “spread your legs more,” he orders.

as he thrusts, your breasts bounce beautifully, but you’re so cock-drunk you can barely speak. you babble, he destroys your walls. you babble, he fucks harder into you. it hurts. too badly. he knows this, but he doesn’t care. why would he? he’s finally getting what you’ve held off for years.

“fuck, fuck, fuck,” luke chanted, pounding into you like a jackhammer. your fingers curl, your toes curl, your whole body is curled in on itself as he fucks you into the mattress. he reaches between your legs, rubbing your clit in tight circles as he fucks you. this only worsens your already vegetative state, causing your thighs to tremble. he takes a hand off your thigh to hold on to your neck, softly gripping it as he fucks into you.

how pretty you are, how delicate and beautiful you are.

“god, you sound so good,” he chuckles darkly, his fingers digging bruises into your thighs as he holds them apart. he hits something inside you, and you both feel it. he hits it repeatedly, each time making you whine louder.

but slowly, you come back to yourself. finally beginning to enjoy it. look at you. coming to your senses.

"shit..." he notices the shift in your screams, from pain to pleasure. his pace slows slightly, but the intensity remains. he leans down, nipping at your ear. “ finally taking that dick like you’re s’posed to," he whispers, hitting that spot inside you with purpose now.

"that's right, baby. take it. fuck, you feel so good," he smiles, licking his lips perversely, gripping your hips tightly. "touch your tits for me," he orders, his voice rough with pleasure. "play with them while i fuck you."

you look up at him through teary eyes, unintentionally batting your eyelashes so beautifully. “fuck, okay,” blood pricks on your bottom lip as you bite down, smiling at your beautiful boy.

your fingers catch your shared juices at the base of his cock, you take it and rub it into your chest, squeezing and pulling your breasts. “so good, m’gonna…”

PLAP, PLAP, PLAP.

"gonna what, baby?" he smirks, knowing exactly what you're trying to say. "cum for me? cum all over my big dick?" he reaches down and pinches your clit hard, sending you over the edge. "cum, baby."

PLAP, PLAP, PLAP.

that’s it, there you go, hm? you spasm and thrash when you cum harshly, cunt restricting around his length, more than it already is. it chokes him like it’s pulling the cum out of him.

he feels your pussy clamp down on him like a vice as you cum, the sensation pushing him over the edge. "fuck, babe! just fuckin’ take it!" he groans, slamming into you as he unleashes a warm load deep inside your cum-drunk pussy.

PLAP.

he fucks his cum into you, knowing neither of you cares for a baby. “take it.”

…aaand after that, you never wanna take “just the tip” again.

even when you’re both all tired, you still cockwarm. fully.

here u go! @giaaaarosaaaa ( ˘ ³˘)♥︎

#have fun #shitty writing #luke castellan #luke castellan x you #luke castellan masterlist #luke x you #luke castellan smut #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan imagine #luke castellan pjo #luke pjo #pjo luke #luke x reader #x reader #smut #fanfic #he’s MEAN and has a BREEDING KINK.#diorchids

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cod-indulgences · 3 days ago

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hey… this might be crazy but … CoD men and pegging? it’s just… i need it 😞

TF141 x female!reader, pegging; soft sex, marking, husband material John Price; light degradation, spanking, ass slut Kyle Garrick; pillow princess Simon Riley, light feminization, lingerie; power bottom Johnny Mactavish, topping from the bottom, overstimulation; can be read as single events or reader with poly!141

John Price getting pegged: this is married sex. This is John Price on his side, leg pulled up and reaching back to hold you up against his body, moaning and swearing into the pillow as you thrust into him. You're wet and sloppy between your thighs to match the mess of lube leaking out around his hole, the dildo in your pussy moving into you with the same rhythm.

Both your bodies are sweaty and flushed, and you dig your teeth into his shoulder when you come, humping and grinding onto the dildo and harness hard enough it shoves John over the edge, spilling over his fingers as he strokes his cock through it.

The bite mark is just high enough a t-shirt can't hide it, and how it's clearly from the back, but he doesn't try and cover it up. In fact he seems to enjoy showing it off around you- which of course means next time you give him a matching one on the other side.

Kyle Garrick getting pegged: he's curious, eager to try it, and the first time is slow and careful. Nothing special, you jerk him off while fucking your strap into him and it's nice enough he wants to go again.

The next time though, he's on his knees, and you're feeling a little more frisky with it- you fuck in hard, letting him feel the whole length of your cock before pulling back enough for his hole to cling to the head, and ram in again, and oh. He's moaning and melting into the bed, ass raised up for you to bounce off your hips. You spank one cheek and he humps the sheets, the other and he starts fucking himself back onto you. Bottom bitch, taking your cock like a whore, and when he groans and comes without a hand on his cock you swear you're never letting him go a day without something in his ass again.

Kyle asks to please only save it for special occasions because he can't handle his mind and back being blown out like that too often. You make no promises.

Simon Riley getting pegged: this is a hulking behemoth of a man, scarred and scary, bass rumble of his voice and huge cock stretching your pussy until you're fucked stupid.

This is also your princess, your sweet baby who blushes and whines when you finger his hole, begs you to touch him, takes your cock so sweetly you can't not cover him in kisses, tease his nipples until they're perked up and pink, play with his cock until it's drooling on his belly. You tell him you bought some cute lace panties and a bra for him and he moans as his cock throbs, you drag him as close against you as possible and promise you love him, your precious thing, going to fill him up and keep him with you forever- and when he comes it's with the sweetest little moan and stripes of come shooting high enough to catch your chest.

He returns the favor the next day where he does, in fact, fuck you stupid and fill you up. You are so fucking happy.

Johnny Mactavish getting pegged: you think you're in charge and you've never been more wrong. This is a man who delights in fucking up down and sideways. You bring out a strap-on and he's on you, working himself open on one hand and eating you out, slurping on your clit so you're extra sensitive for the strap harness to rub you. Puts you on your back and rides you like a pro, groping your tits and angling himself so your cock rubs his prostate perfectly, making you moan as each bounce of his ass rubs your clit, but it's not enough- he promises to get you off when he's done enjoying the pretty little dick you've got for him, and takes his time teasing himself until you're begging him to please come on you.

He's a nice guy and comes all over your tits, before climbing off and getting his hand under your harness to rub your clit, bruising it with his thumb, licking his come off your nipples as you shout and clench around his fingers. When he helps you get the harness off and shoves his face in your pussy you just sob and hope he's satisfied soon.

#tf141 x reader #john price x reader #price x reader #kyle garrick #kyle gaz garrick x reader #gaz x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley #johnny soap mctavish x reader #johnny soap mactavish #soap x reader #captain john price #an indulgence #asks

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mourndust · 1 day ago

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note — vampire!cait has me with a current state of brainrot, so here it is, my take in my formal gf count fagula, this contains smut so minors dni, dead dove do not eat, blood kink, pet names, cait-handling (it's a thing). english is not my first language, any mistake is none intended // my requests are open.

vampire!cait being the type of vampire that hates the intimate act of feeding from someone, avoiding it a much as she can until she can no longer resist the blood thirst and has no other choice but to surrender to her nature.

vampire!caitlyn who cannot resist you — that basic human who's fresh out of collage and is taking the job nobody wants to do. appearing in her chambers with a small notepad and a recording device to interview her since the passing of her mother cassandra.

she made you her bloodbag in no time. that very same night in which you appeared into her vision and became aware of your existence. her eyes follow you around the room and you're suddenly calling her count kiramman, too intimidated to even began to interview her.

vampire!cait who's family is rumored to be inmortal but no-one dares to say a word about it, not even you when she pressed her cold lips against the skin of your shoulder, her nose inhaling the sweet scent of the living, the sound of your heart beating, the sweat on your skin as you got nervous about the lack of space. her dark blue hair almost glows with the dim glow of the candles and you remember it so vividly it becomes a usual thought.

she's a kiramman, an you think she's used to have the things the way she wants. she has money, power, and a fucking aura that's so compelling you don't dare to ever deny her, tilting your head to the side like an offer to her only.

vampire!cait who always makes the bite so nice to receive. stealing demanding kisses that are as sharp as her long coat. makes the shadows in the room grow larger as the light leaves the space and she's surrounding you, her hands growing curious as they go past your shirt, her thick accent burning against your ear as she's preparing you, taking advantage cause hell- you were a pretty journalist so eager to know more about her, to listen, to do whatever the fuck she wants.

when she bites you, she's sure you're wet. her cool hands almost soothing the high temperatures of your body before sinking her teeth in that vein she can feel pulsating from before, filling her bucal cavity with the warm feeling of your blood, of the vitality sliding again in her cold body as she pushes you flush against her demanding mouth. it's not like the blood flow that passes through the good-sized vein in your inner tight, but it's good, so good every single time.

count!caitlyn who says you burn like the sun, taking off your shirt swiftly as the blood drips down to your chest, staining the fabric of your bra. she wastes no time in sucking on the wound, teeth-deep. her tongue swirls around the holes in your skin, and the pain is welcomed, a reminder you're alive as your fingers sink on the strands of her long hair, pulling them to ground yourself.

the vampire keeps your head to the side, fingers shoved inside your mouth as she eats — "stay still and let me have my fill. can't have you making sounds, squirming around. behave."

you're drooling as her index finger hits the back of your throat, and when it seems she had enough of your shoulder, she licks the drops that went to your chest without wasting blood, pulling down on your bra, happy even to clean up the dried rest that stained your chest.

"that's it, behave. you can take the pain" she cooes with almost an echo to her words. "you take it all so well, you're such a good pet. just let me have a bit more, i'm still hungry."

she's nothing but polite, so she waits for you to agree before actually bite you again, tearing apart the tissue of her upper chest as she holds you still cause shit — she knows you're going to move like a whiny bitch.

the count don't care about you staining her sheets, not even when her own clothes get dirty with your blood on it, making you lightheaded when she's comfortable between your legs, soothing the pain with caresses and kisses that left blood behind.

count!cait who used to pride on her self control until she needs to feed from you over and over again, making up excuses to have you there in her bed week after week. you've become a treat, and she's sure to keep you satisfied, praising on your behavior and even when you're lucky, playing with her too.

"you don't have to go to that stupid office," caitlyn says with that know-it-all smile on her face, once again hating up your work in the newspaper "you should help me. keep me full of you, close to me."

the count gets so needy she just has to have you in the middle of the night, climbing the tower of your room and sliding in while you're sleeping. her cold hands wake you up in the most gentle way to slide in your warm bed, your sleepy embrace as your fingers trace invisible patters over the skin of her stomach half asleep. you wake up moments later cause suddenly, you're also craving to be good for your count, giving her what she needs.

so you find a comfortable position to drown your face in between her tights and her dripping cunt, and it's all it takes to have the vampire arching her back, rubbing herself against your lips, vocally open about her pulsating need to release, how good you are following her orders around.

count!caitlyn who ends up fucking you without even feeding from you, who cannot help but crave the blood-tasting-kisses in the middle of the night just because she bite your lip so hard she forgot about the human fragility in you. the count that praises, in a rough voice, how good your fingers felt every time she let you have her way with her.

who wouldn't offer their blood too? after all, it's royalty what you're talking about.

check out my previous work pit!fighter vi.

#vampire!caitlyn #caitlyn kiramman #caitlyn x reader #arcane smut #arcane au #vampire caitlyn #caitlyn kiramman x reader #arcane #arcane x reader #piltover's finest #piltover's gayest #wlw smut #minors dni #18+ mdni #smut #count fagula

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galaxy-stardust · 2 days ago

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Simon Ghost Riley x you

Lingerie shopping

The boutique was quiet, the air thick with the scent of expensive perfumes and soft fabrics. You ran your fingers along the delicate lace of a black set, feeling the intricate embroidery against your skin.

Behind you, Simon stood with his arms crossed, his dark eyes scanning the store with disinterest—until he caught sight of what you were holding.

“That for me, love?” His voice was low, teasing.

You smirked, turning to face him. “Maybe. Want to help me pick something out?”

His eyes darkened slightly, a flicker of heat passing through them as he stepped closer. “Oh, I’ll help, alright.”

You picked out a few more sets—deep red, soft ivory, and a dangerously sheer navy blue—before leading him to the fitting rooms. He sat in one of the plush chairs just outside, his legs spread wide, elbows resting on his thighs as he watched you disappear behind the curtain.

“Don’t keep me waiting,” he murmured.

You grinned, slipping into the first set—the black lace. It hugged your body in all the right places, the sheer panels leaving little to the imagination. Stepping out from behind the curtain, you struck a playful pose.

Simon’s jaw tightened. His hands flexed over his knees, and his tongue darted out to wet his lips. “Turn around,” he ordered, his voice thick with restrained hunger.

You did, slowly, dragging it out just to tease him.

“Fuck,” he muttered. “Come here.”

You took a step closer, but before you could react, his hand shot out, grabbing your wrist and pulling you between his legs. His palms found your hips, his thumbs brushing the delicate lace as he looked up at you with hooded eyes.

“You expect me to just sit here and watch you prance around like this?” he growled, his voice barely above a whisper. His fingers trailed along your exposed thighs, sending a shiver through you.

“That was the idea,” you teased, biting your lip.

Simon chuckled darkly, his grip tightening. “Yeah? Let’s see how much teasing you can take.”

His hands slid up your sides, fingers grazing the lace covering your ribs before slipping around to your lower back. He pulled you closer, his breath hot against your stomach as he pressed a slow, open-mouthed kiss just above your navel.

“Simon,” you breathed, your hands finding his shoulders for balance.

“Shh,” he murmured, lips trailing higher, stopping just before the edge of the fabric covering your chest. His fingers skimmed over the thin straps, his thumbs brushing the curve of your breasts.

The curtain shifted slightly, the faint sound of a saleswoman moving nearby making your heart race. “Simon,” you whispered urgently. “Someone might—”

He smirked against your skin. “Then you better keep quiet, love.”

His hands roamed lower, gripping the swell of your ass as he pressed his mouth against your stomach once more, his teeth grazing your skin. The heat pooling between your thighs was unbearable, the thrill of being caught only adding to the intensity.

Before you could melt completely, he suddenly pulled back, his hands lingering as he leaned in, his lips brushing your ear.

“Try the next one,” he rasped. “And hurry the fuck up before I lose my patience.”

You swallowed hard, retreating behind the curtain with shaky legs, already knowing this little shopping trip wouldn’t end in the fitting room.

Your hands trembled as you reached for the next set—the deep red one, all lace and barely-there straps. Your skin still burned from Simon’s touch, your pulse racing from the way he had pulled you so close, his lips ghosting over your skin, his voice thick with desire.

You slipped into the new set, the fabric hugging your curves perfectly, the delicate details accentuating everything he already worshipped about your body. Taking a deep breath, you pulled the curtain open again.

Simon’s eyes snapped up instantly. And this time, he didn’t even try to play it cool.

“Fuck me,” he muttered under his breath, his eyes dark with hunger. His hands flexed over his thighs, his entire body radiating tension as he took you in.

“Like it?” you asked, stepping toward him, loving the way his jaw clenched.

Simon leaned back slightly, his tongue swiping over his bottom lip as he looked you up and down. “Come closer.”

You did.

He reached out, his fingers trailing along your hip, toying with the thin strap resting against your skin. “This one,” he murmured, voice thick. “This one is trouble.”

You smirked. “Then maybe I should change again.”

His grip tightened. “Not a chance.”

Before you could react, he was on his feet, towering over you, his body a wall of heat and muscle. His hands slid to your lower back, pulling you against him, and you gasped at the hard press of him through his jeans.

“Simon,” you whispered, heart pounding.

His lips brushed your ear. “D’you feel what you do to me, love?”

You did. And you wanted more.

But just as you tilted your head up for a kiss, the distant sound of footsteps reminded you exactly where you were.

Simon groaned, dropping his forehead against yours. “Bloody torture.”

You giggled, reaching up to run your fingers through his short-cropped hair. “Then maybe we should get out of here.”

His hands slid down to your ass, squeezing possessively before he stepped back, eyes still burning. “Go change. Now.”

You turned, heading back into the fitting room, but just as you reached for the curtain, Simon leaned in, his breath hot against your neck.

“Don’t bother putting your clothes back on,” he rasped. “You’re wearing that home.”

Your breath caught, a shiver rolling through you. “Simon—”

His fingers brushed the side of your breast, his voice dangerously low. “And when we get there, love? You won’t be wearing a damn thing at all.”

Your knees nearly gave out.

You didn’t just rush to change—you practically ran.

#cod #simon riley #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x you

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loulou-land · 22 hours ago

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5 Times Buck Realized He Could Be Clingy + 1 Time Tommy was the Clingy One

Day 4 of @bucktommyfluffebruary | Clingy Boyfriends | 4,076 words

(1) Before a Shift

Mornings like these were always the hardest for Buck.

After days spent together—wrapped up in each other, tucked away from the world—it was too easy to get used to having Tommy there. Waking up beside him, getting to roll over to steal lazy kisses, lingering in bed until the sun had well and truly come up. Then, moving to the kitchen, sharing warm coffee, leaning into each other's spaces as they made breakfast, coming up with half-baked plans for the day that they may or may not follow through on.

Buck had done a bit of the domesticity thing with Taylor, but it wasn’t anywhere close to what this was. He had never felt as comfortable as he did with Tommy. And the most incredible part? How seamlessly they had fallen into it, without a second thought.

But eventually, reality came knocking.

And Buck hated it.

The soft glow of their cozy bubble would be ripped away by ringing alarms and the harsh reality of shifts that wouldn't align for a while. And today, it was Tommy’s turn to leave for a shift while Buck still had the rest of the day off.

Buck tried to be normal about it. He really did.

Continue Reading Below or on ao3

He'd stayed curled up in bed, watching as Tommy moved through his morning routine—brushing his teeth while Buck sleepily watched from the pillow; buttoning up his uniform with practiced ease, Buck following the movement of his hands spellbound; sitting on the edge of the bed to lace up his boots, just within his reach.

Okay, time to be cool. Rein it in, Buck thought. Wish him a good day and go back to sleep.

Instead, before Tommy could make a move to stand, Buck latched on.

Nothing dramatic—just a small tug at the fabric of Tommy’s shirt—just enough to stall him.

Tommy huffed out a quiet laugh, and Buck immediately backtracked.

“ Sorry ,” Buck laughed, sheepish. “Just…fixing your shirt. All good now.”

It was pathetic, but his fingers still didn’t let go.

Tommy hummed, turning slightly, looking at him consideringly. “Thank you, sweetheart.”

And Buck…he definitely should've let go by now. He didn't want to make Tommy late. Instead, his finger tightened in the fabric, just slightly.

Tommy noticed. He always noticed.

But he didn't call him out on his dramatics. Didn't tease him. He just reached down, cupped the side of Buck’s face, and pressed a soft kiss to his forehead, right over his birthmark.

“I'll text you between calls.” Tommy promised.

Buck swallowed down the lump in his throat, forcing himself to nod. “ Be safe .”

Tommy kissed him again, slower this time—lingering, reassuring—before heading for the door.

A little while later, Buck decided to brave the day. He had barely finished pouring his coffee when his phone buzzed.

8:55 am

Tommy: Lucy brought donuts today :) (attached image: Tommy biting into a glazed donut, blue eyes sparkling happily)

Buck huffed out a startled laugh, shaking his head at his boyfriend's massive sweet tooth.

Buck: Looks delicious. But not as delicious as the man holding it ;)

Tommy: Evan…behave 😤

And that was only the beginning.

9:47am

Tommy: you have competition, look at how adorable he is (attached image: a orange tabby stretched out on the concrete taking a nap)

Buck: I’m more adorable tho 🥺 right?

Buck: Tommy??

Buck: right?!!

10:05 am

Buck: I just watched that new documentary on black holes.

Buck: Did you know a black hole could fit in your pocket? 🤯

Tommy: That must be why I’m always losing stuff after I’ve put them in my pockets…

Buck: dork 🙄

Tommy: only for you ❤️

10:58am

Tommy: I’m going to kill the newbie

Buck: why?

Buck: please don’t. I need you here, not in jail.

Tommy: he keeps using my coffee mug 😑

Buck: wow, brave man…

11:05 am

Buck: (attached image: Buck in front of the mirror, wearing form fitting workout clothes and smirking into the camera)

Tommy: Baby 😍

Tommy: You don’t play fair. But two can play this game

Tommy: (attached image: Tommy wearing aviator glasses, smiling smugly, sitting in the cockpit of the helicopter)

Buck: …you win 🥵

They continued texting every moment they could throughout the day. Tommy telling him about an interesting call they'd gotten about a naked hiker stuck up in a tree, how he regretted asking the guy how it happened, how Lucy kept teasing him for texting so much and how he couldn’t wait to see him again.

Buck loved it.

And somewhere in the back and forth of messages, Buck realized something.

Tommy really was unlike anyone he'd ever met.

Because Tommy didn't just tolerate Buck’s need to share every thought, every feeling, every random little moment—he truly wanted it.

(2) Holding Hands

Buck was a touchy person.

But it wasn't something he'd ever really thought about—until he started dating tommy.

Because now, whenever they were on a date, every time they were out together, Buck found himself hyper-aware of the way their shoulders brushed as they walked side by side. The way Tommy’s warmth bled into him, a steady presence, grounding, there.

Buck relished it. Enjoyed being close to Tommy.

But what he really loved?

Holding Tommy’s hand.

There was something addicting about the feeling of it—calloused and strong, big enough to make Buck’s fingers feel almost small in comparison. It was ridiculous how much he liked that, how obsessed he was with the way his hand fit so perfectly in Tommy’s.

It had been a revelation the first time it happened. They were walking through a farmer’s market on a lazy Sunday morning, sipping coffee and browsing fresh produce. Buck had been excitedly telling Tommy about the health benefits of squash while Tommy listened intently. It had been natural, the way Buck’s hand had found Tommy’s—automatic, easy, just right.

And then he’d looked down at them. At their fingers interlaced together, Tommy’s grip was firm and warm. Confident and sure.

Buck hadn't meant to stare at them, completely oblivious to the world around him. But he was amazed at how perfect it felt, like a puzzle piece finally slotting into place. Then Tommy squeezed his hand, and Buck had looked up—face flushing, embarrassed at being caught.

Without a word, Tommy lifted their joined hands and pressed a slow, deliberate kiss to Buck’s hand.

Buck tripped.

It was just a small misstep, but Tommy definitely spotted it.

“You good, Evan?” Tommy said grinning.

“Yeah. Totally. That wasn't—” Buck stammered, clearing his throat. “Just, uh, uneven pavement.”

Tommy smirked. “Mhm,”

Buck glared at him, but it was hard to look indignant when his heart was currently doing flips inside his chest.

That moment had opened the floodgates.

After that Buck would reach for Tommy’s hand without even thinking about it. His fingers sliding between Tommy’s, intertwining, squeezing just slightly. Holding on for as long as he could.

If Tommy needed to open a door, reach for something or take out his wallet Buck would relinquish his hold for a few seconds before immediately latching on again.

Tommy always smiled, a small little pleased thing.

So Buck kept doing it. He reached for him when walking together. When they were waiting in line for coffee. In the car, driving to places. While out at the bar with their family and friends. At home, snuggling on the couch or laying in bed.

And every time, Tommy let him.

No teasing. No hesitation.

Just a gentle squeeze back, like he never wanted to let go either.

(3) After a Bad Call

Some shifts turned out bad.

Buck had accepted that a long time ago.

But knowing it didn’t make it any easier.

It didn’t make it easier when a call went south, when a victim slipped away no matter how hard they tried. It didn’t make it easier when he could still hear the sounds of screaming or see the way that life slipped through his fingers.

It didn’t make it easier when the self-doubt crept in, making its home in him, when his chest tightened with the weight of it all, when the voices whispered in his ear—you should’ve done more, you should’ve been better, you should’ve saved them.

Sometimes, those voices sounded exactly like his parents.

Other times, it was just his own.

And on those nights, Buck needed something solid. He craved something warm. Something that told him he was still here. That he still mattered.

But asking for comfort had never been easy for him. Especially when Buck felt like he didn’t deserve it. When he felt like he was making things once again all about himself.

So when he walked through the door, carrying the weight of that night’s failure, he didn’t say anything.

Buck dropped his keys on the counter. Stood with his hands flat on it as he stared unseeing at the grainy dots of the countertop. Then he rubbed a hand over his face like that would somehow scrub the frustration off of him.

Buck tensed when he felt strong arms circle his waist and got pulled into a steady chest. He matched his breathing to Tommy’s and felt himself slowly relaxing and letting go of some of the tension in his shoulders.

It helped that Tommy didn’t ask.

He just took one look at Buck and knew.

Knew what Buck needed, even if he couldn’t say it.

“C’mere .”

Buck didn’t even hesitate.

He turned around and let himself be pulled in, let himself be wrapped up in Tommy’s arms.

And for a while, he just stood there, breathing Tommy in, grounding himself in the warmth of his chest, not thinking about anything other than Tommy Tommy Tommy .

Eventually, Tommy kissed his temple, then nudged him toward the bathroom.

“Hot shower first. Then I’ve got you.”

And Buck froze for a second, completely amazed at the concept that someone had him.

After the shower, Buck found his favorite sweatpants and hoodie waiting for him. The ones that were soft and well-worn, the ones that felt safe. The ones he’d hide in when he was feeling particularly raw and bereft. His heart picked up speed at the thought that Tommy had picked up on that. Had remembered.

There was a cup of soothing tea on the nightstand.

But most importantly?

There was Tommy.

Sitting on the bed, waiting with open arms, like he already knew exactly where Buck needed to be.

Buck didn’t fight it anymore.

He climbed into bed, curled into Tommy’s chest, let himself feel it— the warmth, the comfort, the weight of arms holding him together when he felt like he was falling apart at the seams.

Tommy didn’t say anything, just rubbed slow circles into his back, a steady touch that anchored him, that reminded him he was here.

At some point, Buck let the pain in him crack open.

He exhaled shakily, pressed his face into Tommy’s neck, wrapped his fingers in his shirt and let himself cry.

And Tommy just held him.

Didn’t judge him, didn’t rush him, didn’t tell him to pull himself together, didn’t make him feel any less for showing emotions, didn’t say it was fine because it wasn’t.

Tommy just held on tighter to Buck.

And when Buck’s breathing evened out, when the exhaustion started creeping in, Tommy finally spoke—low, soft, certain.

“You did everything you could, baby.”

“You’re a damn good firefighter, Evan.”

“I’ve got you. I’m here.”

And Buck—warm and safe, pressed against the only person who had ever made him feel like he could just be, that he didn’t have to hold it all in—let himself believe it.

(4) In Public

Buck had never really been big on PDA.

Not because he was uncomfortable with it—he just hadn’t really been the type. With past partners, he’d hold hands, drape an arm around their shoulder, maybe rest a hand on their lower back. A quick kiss on the cheeks or lips. But that was it.

With Tommy, it was different. He just— wanted. All the time.

It was like some switch had flipped in his brain. Like his body just instinctively sought Tommy out. Tommy was Earth, and Buck was his moon, caught in his orbit.

He couldn’t help it.

Wherever they were, Buck was aware of him.

Tommy could be across the room, deep in conversation with Bobby, or standing at the truck joking around with Eddie, and Buck would still know exactly where he was at all times.

(Chimney had once called it his Built-In Tommy Radar™.)

Which, granted, was very dramatic.

But also, not entirely untrue.

And really, he blamed Tommy. He’d totally conditioned Buck. Because every time their eyes met across the room, Tommy would give him that smile.

The soft, scrunchy one, the one that was just for him.

And Buck?

Buck was a lost cause.

What else was he supposed to do but make his way to Tommy? To kiss that smile that was his and his alone, to sigh happily into his mouth, to melt under Tommy’s touch—the warm press of his hands on Buck’s hips, the rest of the world fading away.

So yeah. Maybe he was a PDA guy.

Maybe he did like having Tommy’s arms around him, the way he got pulled in effortlessly as Tommy talked to Chim, Hen or Eddie, like it was second nature, like he was proud to have Buck in his arms.

And maybe he did like the steady hand on his lower back when walking through a crowd, the way Tommy would subtly shift in front of him, protective without even thinking about it (and though Buck could take care of himself, there was something about the action that made him feel cared for), the soft kiss to the side of his head when there was a lull in conversation.

He also loved the dorky, completely endearing compliments Tommy gave Buck regardless of whoever was standing within listening distance, they always left him grinning like an idiot.

He doesn’t ever remember being as giddy as he gets when Tommy flirts with him—making him feel as nervous as their very first date.

And maybe—just maybe—he was a little obsessed with Tommy’s hugs.

(Okay, a lot obsessed.)

Because Tommy gave the best hugs.

Big and warm, arms wrapped around him like a shield, like Buck was something precious.

So yeah, he sought them out. Constantly. And maybe that happened to be when they were around people. So what. It was always a good time to get a Tommy hug.

And Tommy never denied him.

So Buck kept doing it.

One time, Buck had been trapped in a long-winded Chimney movie rant, which was fine, except he really missed Tommy and wanted to be in his arms.

“Yeah, yeah, that’s fascinating. Uh…excuse me, I gotta go ask Tommy something…” he said, turning in the direction of where he knew Tommy was.

Chimney stopped mid-sentence, shaking his head. “You didn’t hear a single word I said, did you?”

Buck blinked. “Hmm? What?’

Chimney sighed. “Go on. Find Tommy. I’m stealing him later.” He pointed a finger at Buck. “Heactually appreciates my movie discussions.”

Buck snorted. “Good luck with that.” He patted Chim’s shoulder and happily took off.

He found Tommy in the kitchen, drinking a glass of wine and talking to Hen. Without hesitation, Buck slotted himself into his side.

Tommy didn't even pause—just wrapped an arm around him, tugged him in closer, and kept talking.

Like it was the most natural thing in the world, to have a Buck shaped limpet attached to his side.

Which, to be fair, it kind of was now.

Hen just raised an eyebrow. “You really can’t go five minutes without touching him, huh?”

“Nope,” Buck said easily.

Tommy just smiled, pressed a kiss to the top of Buck’s head, and kept rubbing slow circles into his back.

Buck grinned, nuzzling into Tommy’s neck, unable to mask the joy he felt in simple moments like this—where he objectively knew he was maybe being a bit too much, but had learned that in Tommy’s eyes?

It was never enough.

(5) After the Breakup

After the breakup—and after Tommy realized his mistake, and after Buck ignored what everyone else was telling him and went to get his man back, and after the screaming-crying match outside Tommy’s house, followed by clothes ripping, up against the door, we’re-having-sex-and-getting-back-together moment—Buck’s clinginess ramped up.

Not in a bad way. Not in a suffocating, unhealthy way.

Just in a he-knows-what-life-without-Tommy-feels-like-and-doesn’t-want-to-go-through-that-ever-again way.

And luckily for him, Tommy felt exactly the same.

Which was why, after a week of barely seeing each other because of their shifts, Buck was on the verge of losing it. He needed his Tommy time. It was a necessity at this point.

Buck was so ready to make up for lost time.

Usually, when this happened, they’d spend a full 48 hours wrapped up in each other. No interruptions, no responsibilities—just them.

But this time?

This time, the universe had conspired against them.

Buck didn’t know what god's he’d pissed off, but he’d love to make them an offering because this? This was just unfair.

Instead of catching up properly—with a nice dinner (Tommy for desert), a relaxing movie (which they wouldn’t really watch, because Buck would be riding Tommy), a long shower (where Tommy would suck him dry), and finally going to bed (making love until they wrung a couple of orgasm of each other)—they’d fallen asleep.

They’d both come off exhausting shifts that had gone into overtime, stumbled into bed, shared a sleepy kiss, and promptly passed out.

Of course, the next morning, they’d overslept.

Which meant no lazy morning kisses, no waking Tommy up with a blowjob, no time to soak each other in, and—worst of all—no shower quickie.

Nope. Rather, they’d had to rush out the door to make it to Bobby and Athena’s BBQ.

“Can’t we just stay in this time?” Buck pouted. “I can just tell them I got sick.”

Tommy chuckled, “Baby, we did that last time. And they didn’t believe it.”

“Well, how was I supposed to know you were such a bad actor? Buck huffed. “I told you to sound nasally, not British.”

Tommy shrugged, throwing him a long-suffering smile. “Well, now you know why I’m a pilot and not an actor,” he said drily.

Buck slumped in the passenger seat, fidgeting with Tommy’s fingers “I just want you all to myself. I feel like I haven’t seen in forever,” he whined.

“I know, sweetheart. I feel the same.” Tommy squeezed his hand. “But if we don’t make an appearance, we’re getting disowned.”

“Fine,” Buck grumbled.

And now, Buck was suffering.

He was pretty sure his family had conspired to ruin his life. Because tell him why everyone kept stealing Tommy away.

First, Chimney cornered him to talk about the greatest horror movies of the ‘90s (Who cares, Buck thought viciously.)

Then, Eddie pulled him aside for car talk. (C’mon man, you guys have your own bro day for this!)

After that, Maddie and Karen had claimed him, dragging him into a corner with wine and gossip (And okay, fine, Buck couldn’t compete with that right now—Tommy did love juicy gossip.)

But Buck?

Buck was two seconds away from doing some maiming.

He tried to be patient.

Tried to play it cool.

But after an hour of barely seeing Tommy? When they’d come here together?

Enough was enough.

So when they finally sat down to eat, Buck plopped himself right into Tommy’s lap.

Just. Dropped right in.

Complete silence around the table.

Until—

“Oh my god.” Chimney, squawked.

“Can you two be normal for five minutes?” Eddie sighed.

“Buckaroo, you do know there’s an empty chair right there?” Athena said, dryly.

“I’m surprised he lasted this long without touching Tommy,” Hen smirked.

Bobby just shook his head and passed the potatoes to Maddie.

“I think it’s sweet,” Maddie said, completely unbothered.

Tommy just laughed, wrapping an arm around Buck’s waist, pulling him closer.

“Missed me, babe?”

“You have no idea,” Buck sighed dramatically, melting against him.

The table collectively groaned.

“Disgusting.” Hen.

“Sickening.” Chimney.

“Truly vile.” Eddie.

“You’re all just jealous,” Buck mumbled into Tommy’s shoulder.

Tommy chuckled, dropping a kiss to the side of Buck’s head, keeping one hand on his waist and pulling their plate closer to share.

Buck grinned.

Yeah, he was exactly where he was supposed to be.

(+1) After the Breakup - Tommy’s Version

Tommy woke up first.

He blinked the sleep from his eyes, his breath catching in his throat as he found himself staring at Evan.

Evan, who was sleeping peacefully beside him, face soft and relaxed, his lips curved into the smallest, barely-there smile.

His head was pillowed on Tommy’s arm, his fingers curled loosely around Tommy’s waist, even in sleep still holding on.

Tommy exhaled, slow and careful, like if he moved too fast, it would all disappear.

Because some part of him—the stupid, still-scared part of him—was afraid this wasn’t real, that this was all a dream, a hallucination, a cruel trick of his own mind.

How could Evan really be here—in his house, in his bed, in his arms?

But no. He remembered.

Tommy remembered opening the door yesterday and coming face to face with an angry, teary-eyed Evan.

He remembered the way Evan had yelled at him—loud and emotional and so heartbreakingly honest.

“You don’t get to make that choice for me, Tommy! You don’t get to decide that you won’t be my last!”

And Tommy had broken down. Had said things he never meant to say out loud.

Had told Evan that he deserved better.

And Evan had shouted right back—loud, frustrated but completely sure of himself.

“I don’t want ‘better.’ I want you. Not some mythical, perfect person out there. You—Tommy. You’re already my perfectly imperfect guy. I love you.”

And Tommy—God.

Tommy had wanted to believe him. Had wanted to trust it.

So he’d made a choice. Because living without Evan had been the worst experience of his life.

And now, here they were.

Evan made a soft sound, stirring awake.

Tommy watched as his eyelashes fluttered, as his breathing shifted, as blue eyes slowly blinked open.

And then Evan saw him. And smiled, bright and beaming and easy, like he’d never once doubted Tommy was going to be here.

God.

How could Tommy have ever let this go?

He lifted a hand, fingers tracing the shape of Evan’s lips, his nose, the sharp line of his jaw. He followed the slope of his eyebrow, the curve of the pink mark above it.

Evan hummed happily, leaning into his touch.

And something in Tommy cracked wide open. Now that he could finally touch again, he couldn’t stop.

Not in the desperate, frantic way they had last night, when their hands had been all urgency, all need, all pent-up longing and desperation.

No. This was softer.

This was Tommy relearning Evan—as if he could ever truly forget him—his hands traveling slowly, memorizing and rediscovering all at once.

The curve of Evan’s hip. The dip of his spine. The warmth of his skin under Tommy’s palm.

Evan preened under the attention, sighing happily, and Tommy just soaked him in.

They lay there for a while, watching each other, saying everything without really saying a word.

Until finally, Evan made a move to sit up.

Tommy hadn’t even realized he made a noise—something small, something desperate, something aching—until Evan stopped instantly.

“Hey.” Evan’s voice was soft, questioning. “What’s wrong?”

Tommy swallowed.

His throat felt tight.

“Just—” He hesitated, but only for a second, then let himself be honest.

“Stay. A little while longer. Please.”

Evan smiled, soft and knowing. “Of course, honey.”

He opened his arms, and Tommy fell into them, into warmth and safety and home. Fell into the one place he never wanted to leave again.

Evan’s arms came up around him, holding him just as tightly as Tommy was holding on to him.

Tommy pressed his face into the crook of Evan’s neck, exhaling slow, letting himself breathe, letting himself believe.

He had Evan.

Because Evan had chosen him.

And this time?

Tommy wasn’t letting him go.

#bucktommyfluffebruary #day 4 #clingy boyfriends #evan buckley #tommy kinard #bucktommy #5+1 things #5 + 1 fic #fluff and humor #mild angst #long post #my fluffebruary fics

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lisenberry · 1 day ago

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We drift in and out

(Epilogue) Ch. 4: If someone asks, this is where I'll be

3k/E/NSFW

Talk of pregnancy/injuries/hospitals (but also a ton of domestic fluff).

A welcome home for John.

(How it started...) (AO3)

You ended up picking a ring that belonged to his great-grandmother, and had it resized just in time for his release from the hospital.

Severe internal bleeding from multiple puncture wounds and two separate points of blunt force trauma, five broken ribs, a fracture in his spine, a grade three concussion, and a blown out right knee. Two agonizing weeks in intensive care before they could even fly him back home. Six more at King Edward VII’s Hospital for veterans.

It was strange being on the other side of things. With him in the hospital bed, arguing with the nurses and staff, and you the one adjusting his pillow and fetching a refill on his water and ice chips.

But you were grateful to see him recover at a quicker rate than any of the doctors had anticipated. They clearly didn’t know John, because by mid-January, he was walking with the help of a cane and sitting back on your couch. Watching the weekly match and defying their orders not to lift anything heavier than five kilos.

Each time he hoisted the baby up into the air, you worried that he’d somehow fall apart. Rip himself open again. Only to remember that of all the things he had endured, the weight of your child on his chest wouldn’t be what took him from you.

That nothing would, ever again.

He was retired. A decommissioned weapon of warfare that would spend the rest of its days warm and dry and protected in a museum, telling its stories and keeping its secrets. And if they tried to bring him back in again, you’d just have to bash in his other knee.

Simple as that.

“While I admire your conviction, love, it won’t come to that. I promise,” he’d vowed with a deep chuckle, and dropped a scratchy kiss to your temple when you’d told him as much.

The rest of the team had a laugh over it, as well. Sergeant Garrick even offered to do it for you, if necessary. Which sparked a grisly conversation between him and Sergeant MacTavish about the correct pressure and angle with which to get the job done, and whether or not they’d need Lieutenant Riley to help hold him down.

“Gladly,” had been the quiet man’s only reply. Made even slightly more unnerving because your drooling, teething baby had his finger clenched tightly between her sharp little teeth. And he didn't seem bothered at all.

She must’ve seen something interesting in him as well, perhaps in the way he didn’t flinch or pull away with an exaggerated yelp like her mum did. It brought an adorable crease of concentration to her tiny brow, followed by a wide, cheeky grin as she realized she’d met her match.

“It’s good luck when a baby smiles at you, L.T.,” Johnny teased around the mouth of his beer, quickly turning to the telly to avoid the annoyed look he knew would come.

“She can’t go around biting people,” you admonished, rolling your eyes with a huff as you set the table.

“Only the dodgy ones,” Kyle piped up from his end of the couch as he rose to have his turn of holding her, avoiding any potential for bloodshed.

You’d kept your promise to meet his team again under different circumstances, and you’d invited them to your flat for a Welcome Home party to watch the match. It had been too cold to grill on his outside deck, so instead you made a small feast of chicken marsala, mashed potatoes and green beans. Crusty bread rolls and a brightly colored salad.

You hoped they weren’t too picky, but if they were anything like John, they’d eat burnt shit on a shingle if it was hot, so you tried not to overthink it. When you’d been working full time, you didn’t have much energy to think about cooking, but in the months since your maternity leave, you’d come to enjoy it.

Not knowing what to expect of your guests, you’d been surprised to see that none of them had arrived empty-handed. Kyle brought a case of beer and a bottle of wine. Johnny brought a sweet bouquet of flowers and a dessert trifle that he swore looked more labor intensive than it was.

“My mam’s old trick for impressing the lasses. Didn’t have to cook a thing,” he’d pronounced with a lazy wink.

And Simon, well, he’d brought a party-sized bag of prawn crisps.

You almost wept at the thoughtfulness, for reasons you couldn’t explain. Maybe it was because they’d all had a hand in bringing him home to you. That they’d shown him such deference and respect.

Love.

You’d once lamented that he had no one except you, but you were wrong. He’d always been in good hands. All that was missing was Kate, who’d declined your invitation with a sweet note and a promise to catch up another time.

Maybe there was some lingering animosity over the way the mission went down, or maybe it was that she preferred to keep things on a professional level. Her power over the team hinging on keeping herself separate. An omnipotent voice in their ear more than a friend at their side.

“I half-expected to see the missus knocked up again, Captain. What are you waiting for?” MacTavish pivoted from instigating his lieutenant to his captain with the same puckish fortitude.

A scandalized snort escaped as you turned to gauge John’s reaction. Sure enough, a rosy blush crept up under his beard. His cerulean eyes evolved from crinkled with amusement to panicked in a heartbeat. Like he’d been found out.

As before, he’d come back a little different. Changed in subtle ways, beyond the physical. You sometimes thought of him as a planet, circling steadily on some unending course. A force to be certain, but not invulnerable. Weathered and scarred by tiny evolutions that shifted him imperceptibly off axis along the way.

Perhaps the weeks of torture he didn’t talk about affected his capacity to keep his desires so close to his chest. What you had once thought of as his poker face, you now wondered if he’d start wearing everything so readily upon his features.

You took pity on both him and MacTavish, whose smile had faded in fear he’d hit a nerve.

“Not for want of trying, Johnny,” you corrected him mockingly. “But one of us has to work around here, and my leave’s nearly up.”

“And without her work, he’d still be at the bottom of a bunker,” Kyle defended you with a nod.

“You’re right, carry on then. Maybe it’s L.T.’s turn to catch the baby fever.”

He just couldn’t help himself it seemed, and you quickly turned back to the kitchen before all hell could break loose.

You needn’t have worried about dinner. It was promptly and heartily devoured among a raucous round of conversation. Not a green bean or a cherry tomato was spared. Plates were all but licked clean of the rich, mushroom sauce you’d always been intimidated to make before. Butter, shallots, flour and wine. Salt and pepper.

How could anything so simple taste so good?

As the evening wore on, there was a palpable sense of relief in the air. An easiness that had you feeling like you were with family, but not like the family you’d known. It was the kind you’d only heard about, never pictured for yourself. One where you could laugh with food in your mouth or call someone an asshole without hurting anyone’s feelings.

Maybe it wasn’t just a welcome home party for him. You were safe in this place with your baby, John and these men you didn’t even know. You, who had grown so comfortable being alone and resigned yourself to that fate, were home, too. Whatever had happened before, and whatever could possibly come, posed no threat in that moment. For any of you.

It brought out an easiness in John as well, a bit of pride that his small circle of people had gotten along so well. Until you’d tried to hide your first yawn, and then he gave the silent command for his team to take their leave.

It was a marvel, really. One short, audible sigh and a stretch of his wide shoulders and they were all on their feet, thanking you for the meal and excusing themselves with all the polite formalities of a table of boys at Sunday dinner.

When you were alone, the excitement of the day faded slowly from your bones, but the contented smile remained snuggly fastened across your face.

“I hope those muppets weren’t too much. I warned them to behave.” He emptied the last of his beer down his throat as he pushed the door closed behind them.

“You wouldn’t remember, being so heavily sedated at the time, but we got a long quite well at King Edward’s. They’re good lads.”

“MacTavish can be...colorful.” He gave a short smirk when he found the right word for his sergeant’s sense of humor, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Just wanted to get a rise out of you, is all. I don’t think he meant anything by it.”

“Hate to disappoint the lad, but after five years of not exactly being careful, it’s not hard to see that maybe it’s just me that can’t—” You shushed him with a gentle finger to his lips before he could go any further. Stunned at his admission and wanting to stop it before any more of his insecurities spilled out so freely.

You’d silence them all.

Was that why you hadn’t had sex since his deployment, aside from a few hurried hand jobs and quiet blow jobs from underneath his hospital gown? He’d been sure to take care of you in other ways once he’d gotten home, but had stopped short of filling you up and taking you in the way he had before he left.

When he’d pounded so restlessly, and relentlessly, you wondered if he was trying to burrow himself inside you. To leave something of himself irrevocably behind. Was he disappointed to learn he hadn’t, when it had come so easily to someone else?

You’d chocked his restraint up to his injuries, and were glad to see him taking it slow and not pushing himself. You hadn’t stopped to think that he may have been still holding you just a little out of reach. That he hadn’t fully given himself up to the idea that you were his, despite what his letters had said.

There was no room for that now. Easy and casual went out the window the day your daughter was born. His daughter, no matter how she’d been conceived. In every way that did matter. And in the days and months that followed when he saw you at your worst. He hadn’t let you go then, and you weren’t going to let him pull away from you now.

“Well, the only way to know for sure is to stop being careless. And start trying.” Your arms slid around his neck and pulled him down to you.

“Is that what you want, darling?”

“I want you to know that you’re not broken, and you never could be.”

“How do you know?”

“I didn’t tell you? I thought you knew.” You pulled away with confusion, focusing instead on the buttons of his shirt.

“What?”

“I’m psychic,” you boasted as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “I’ve seen the future.”

“Have you now?” At least the indulgent twinkle in his eyes replaced the bleakness you never wanted to see again.

He was allowed to come back different, but he was never going to be anything but your John.

“You’re going to need glasses soon. And you’re going to buy four pairs of the cheapest ones you can find because you’re going to forget them everywhere.”

“You’ve just been talking to my doctor is all.” A playful hitch at the corner of his mustache brought him further out of his mood.

“And no matter how many children we have, they’re going to be horribly embarrassed by us.”

Once his shirt lay discarded at your feet, you went to work on his belt and trousers.

“Eww, Mum’s snogging Dad again. They’re just the worst,” you mimic the disgusted voice of your potential progeny. “And you’ll just laugh and kiss me harder. Show them how much you love their mother.”

“What else?” He stopped your forward progress on his wardrobe to hold your hands in his.

“We’re going to take a lot of vacations. Show them the whole world, all the good people worth saving. The beauty worth living for. And the road trips to the country are going to take twice as long as they should because you'll have to stop to pee at least twice an hour, and I’m going to take an annoying amount of photos—”

He did shut you up then with a kiss, finally, as he pulled you both to the floor.

“Not the floor, your poor back!” You attempted to protest, but he was moving quicker than you’d seen in months and held you tightly across his chest.

“It’s never too sore to please my wife. Give this old man some credit.” He sat you up with his back against the

“You’ll let me know if it hurts, won’t you? I know how you like to be brave.” You kissed the side of his neck, trailing to suckle along his ear.

Repeated the words he’d said to you, not so long ago.

When he smiled, you felt it in his jaw just before you sat up straight to notch yourself above him. He propped himself up on a forearm behind his head, content to sit back and watch as you set your skirt aside and sunk down to meet him.

“I’ve always told my men if they wake up to this, in the warm, silky,” his voice caught briefly on a breathless shudder, “grip of someone who’d fight the world for them, then to enjoy it for as long as it lasts. Because they’re already dead.”

“You’re not dead. You’re right here.”

You clutched him with your walls, as if to reinforce your position. And he somehow hardened even more in deep gratitude, bucking back at you as if to test the veracity of your resolve.

“Fucking heaven,” he groaned just before he pivoted and pinned you beneath him with the thick thighs you were worried had lost too much size in the hospital.

That you worked tirelessly to fatten up with signs of life. Signs of love. They spread yours out wide, to prove you wrong for ever thinking he’d lost any of his fight.

“There you are. Welcome home, John.”

*****

You were married on a lovely Friday afternoon in February. Valentine’s Day, to be specific, in a small civil ceremony at the local register’s office. John looked dashing in his classic black suit, and you were radiant in a simple dress you splurged on. The cut and color flattering the curves that had made themselves a permanent part of you.

It was a day just for the two of you, and you celebrated with dinner at The Midland, with three very enthusiastic babysitters keeping the little one occupied at home.

You only received two panicked phone calls throughout the night. One minor emergency from Gaz regarding a particularly messy diaper and one sincere apology from Soap for knocking over a bottle of your hard-earned breastmilk down the sink while trying to heat it up. You assured them that they sounded like it was all under control, and you had plenty of fresh nappies and milk reserves in case they needed more.

There was no dancing the night away, but you still managed to stay out until the wee hours of the morning, catching an early breakfast and the sunrise along the Thames. You returned home, tip-toeing down the hallway with your shoes in your hands. You had every intention of continuing the festivities in his apartment, but instead you both silently agreed to poke your heads into yours to check on the lads.

It was Ghost who surprised you the most, although it shouldn’t have. You found him sitting upright in your armchair, with the baby asleep in the crook of his arm.

“Have you been up all night?” you whispered, as his eyes flickered up from the book he was reading, despite having lost his audience to dreamland. Something about rabbits and foxes making friends.

“She’s a quiet little thing, isn’t she?” John intoned knowingly down to his lieutenant.

“Wake her up and I’ll kill you both,” was his only reply, but a slight smile pulled at his scarred lips.

*****

By the spring, you were back at work. A whole year had passed since your world had changed so completely. It was easier to leave them behind each day, knowing they had each other to keep company. That they were both in good hands. He even made you lunches in the morning and had dinner on the stove when you came home.

You stopped for a coffee at your old favorite shop on the way to the office and reacquainted yourself with the new faces at the security desk. Stretched old muscles of socialization and got up to speed on the latest workplace gossip.

On lazy Sunday mornings, John shared his cigar on the outside deck as you made your meal plan for the week, and you picnicked in the park on Saturdays while the baby practiced walking on her chubby, strong little legs.

John made time to get to the gym, not so much to stay in fighting shape, but to keep up with his ‘ravenous wife’, and his ‘beastly moppet’. His words, not yours.

And as the summer flowed into fall, change would come yet again. But it didn’t scare you any longer. It was all just endings and beginnings. Beginnings and ends.

You slipped your work bag over your shoulder and paused to give your husband a kiss that would last all day. The slow, warm, savoring kind that left a trail behind.

“What was that for?” he asked, eyebrows nearly up to his hairline.

“You said you were sorry once, for missing out on everything. Remember?” you continued only when he nodded, solemnly, not really seeing where you were going with it. “Well, everything is about to get a lot more interesting.”

You held up the white and purple stick that you’d been hiding in your pocket. It was the third you’d taken over the last two weeks. You wanted to be sure before you told him, knowing how much it meant to him.

Everything you had prophesized came true, in its own time, as you knew it would.

...And you were sure to take an obnoxious amount of photos.

#call of duty #john price #captain price #captain john price #price x reader #john price x reader #captain john price x reader #children #babies

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sugurusladyknightt · 1 day ago

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rustling bedsheets. 24:32. cold, dark, winter, sunday night. the home was quite, it hardly felt like your home , and you're alone, and he's late to come home. you're brushed your teeth 5 times tonight and had to redo your skincare more than you'd care to admit from how many times you've splashed cold water on your face.

now, you turn in your bed again pulling the blankets closer to your body and curling into yourself. you feel like an oyster shit right in its shell. the blankets hug your body tightly like a second skin. fulfilling the same purpose as the thick fur coats of animals this time of year.

it's not even that late, you think as you check your phone, doing your best to not let the blankets fall off your body, only 24:33. why the fuck is the clock moving so slow.and if your being honest with yourself it was none of your business that he was running late. whether he'll come back home to you or not. if he's hurt. you don't care what is keeping him. who. what if he was with someone else.

images of him, your dearest friend, your dearest suguru, with another flashing behind your eyes. his sharp violet eyes focused on someone else. their hands in the inky hair he takes such good care of. suguru wouldn't let anyone touch his hair. though he let you braid it once, that means something. ...right?

what if he's touching them. ever so gently, the same way he handles most things, the way his hands should be handling you. his perfect form sitting on someone else's couch, or floor, or bed. soft lips that somehow never seem to dry, brushing with the lips of another. his laboured breathes and pretty smile and his perfect soft laughter after bumping teeth or foreheads or whatever and suddenly your sat straight up, back stiff, hair in a mess and eyes blown out. you see the imaginary scenes of your beloved and other playing behind your eyes like a horrible movie that only seems to become a clearer memory the more you wish to forget it.

now you're, getting out of bed, pacing. anxiously. biting at your fingertips and nails. nervous habit you can't seem to shake. he's seen you do it, he's always gently pull your hand away and pull it closer to himself to assess the damage. scolding you softly with a furrow between his brows and the furry of a livid hamster. that's how it came off. you wonder if he can tell how badly you wanted to tuck the stray hair behind his ear.

continuing to pace the expanse of your room. back and forth. and back and forth. and back and forth. being this worked up over this makes no sense, and yet here you are. there was no obligation for him yo tell you what was holding him up. and no obligation for you to feel this way.

his room is across the hall, you would probably smell the faint smell of him if you walk passed it. it was neat, though you don't spend much time there. it's his scared space, you never wanna come off as an intruder.

(to him your presence is the most welcome if intrusions, one he's seek out himself if he hadn't had the same juvenile worries he didn't know you share)

softly you open your door, as if there was some there who'll hear you. as if you were worried of being caught doing the wrong thing. you start off slow, pacing back and forth in hall with soft steps, you wanna tell yourself you pace doesn't slow when you walk past his room. not knowing whether it's alright to be hoping for him to magically appear and ease your worries. to smooth you to sleep

your doing your best to try manage the thoughts in your head, the softness of your steps, and listening for the door at the stairs trying to hear if he's there. and no you haven't run up to the window when you hear the smallest disruption from the silence (ignoring you pounding heart) to see if that was his bike or just... a fucking bird???

worried is how you feel. worried and anxious and helpless and scared and insane. he's good, so incredible good at helping with preventing these feelings from rousing, as if sugurus presence alone was safety and comfort incarnate. if peace were a person.

like the sun had disguised itself as the moon and been doomed to live the life of a human on earth, doing his very best to fit it in, though it remains incredibly clear he's too good for all of this. too good for all of you.

his presence felt like then sun on your skin.

divinity and he went hand in hand in your eyes. being a human incarnation of the sun didn't seem like such a faraway concept if the one in question suguru.

your still at the window, just paying less attention now to the initial goal of being on the look out for his bike, instead taking up overthinking his uncharacteristic tardiness and questions of his divinity (how fun is that!)

the overwhelming noise from your racing thoughts makes it feel like it's much less quite than it is. then you hear it. the click of your front door opening.

shit.

you wait. only a moment. everything slows but your hearts racing. suguru? or someone else? you hear who ever it is take a step, then two. it's him.

shit again.

panic if a different sort rises up your throat. it's suguru. you know it is. but she shouldn't know you worried. or that you up at this hour. or that you think he's really the sun in disguise. you've spoken to him about how you would have to get up earlier than usual in the coming weeks because of an unfortunate shift in you schedule. he'd be upset your losing sleep waiting up for him (simultaneously elated that you'd wait up for him to return to you safely. he always will. but that isn't your business to know.)

walking as quickly and quietly as you can you make it to your room, gently closing the door behind you and slipping back under your sheets. exhale. trying to slow your strangely rapid breathes, and an odd sting in your left knee. your cheeks feel hot, but your finding yourself a little smug about how graceful your unplanned but incredibly executed escape had been. eyes closed. breath slows. pretending to be asleep.

you are just wayy too good.

____

suguru steps into your shared home. deep breathe, it feels like the first time he's gotten to breathe all day. it's slow, he wants to savour it, coming home. coming in to you.

his usually sharp and concentrated violet eyes feel droopy and tired. he's thirsty, and frightfully, his lips are dry. the consequences of being dehydrated he guesses, making a conscious effort to make sure he doesn't lick them. that'll only make it worse in the long run. he makes a mental note: never forget your lip products, dry lips will make your day all that much worse. and adds it to the ever growing list of things he demands he remembers everyday

broad shoulders slumped, his body feels too heavy for him or carry right now. it's dark, the lights are all out. quite too. your probably asleep. he thinks back to what you had told him about a sudden shift in you schedule as he bends down to remove his shoes.

some of his hair falling out of its careful arrangement and draping over his shoulders. it's come loose at some point and he hadn't bothered him enough to be adjusting it.

he wants to rest. you said that you'd be doing a lot more far too early in the morning, and so you'd need to be in bed earlier than usual. that's what he thought, until rushed, heavy steps were heard?

a quizzical expression finds its way to his face, and a moment later, after successfully removing one shoe, he straightens his body. he can tell it's you. those are your steps. then a thud. you fell. the first instinct is to check that your alright, but before it really registered, you make a quick recovery and dash to your room slamming the door in a hurry.

now hold on now. feeling a mixture of what the fuck and amusement bubbles up his throat.

what the fuck because aren't you supposed to be asleep?? you'd have to be up in a few hours time. you'll be exhausted. on the other hand he wanted to burst out laughing because you must've been trying to be subtle, to run across the upper floor of the house you shared unnoticed. we're you waiting for him? the thought makes his cheeks warm, his heart skip a beat, and a weird butterfly sensation to erupt in his stomach.

it's dead quite now, so he removes his other shoe, and places them both down. one next to the other. suguru is then pulling out one of the shoes from the pair he knows your planning on wearing tomorrow. he looks for the matching pair, fishes it out, and places the pair of them together next to his. he'd do anything really if it meant convince you, fishing out the missing shoe from the unexplored and incredibly unorganized coat closet you share.

you won't have to worry about not finding one of them in your morning rush tomorrow. he'll be asleep then, but still, suguru wants to be a part of your day. to be helpful to you even though you don't know it. he hangs his jacket, next to yours again. that's where it's supposed to be.

making a beeline for the kitchen and quickly grabbing a glass of water, he makes his way up the stairs. he's making his way to you.

your tucked away in bed trying. back under your blankets body curled in on itself. trying to listen for what he's doing. you feel giddy. when you hear soft steps coming up the stairs.

okok!! show time.

you've hyped yourself for your life's best performance of... fake sleeping!!! deep breathe and bam, you're in character. eyes closed breathing slowed, hair adjusted, perfect. he knocks at the door, suppressing your wide giddy smile, he's got a smile on too, though you can't see it.

suguru opens the door ever so slightly and gently calls out to you. god his voice, low and ever so soft, pronouncing your name is what you'd go to war for. anything really would be too little of an ask in comparison to hearing him call out to you oh so sweetly again and again. you wanna hear that voice for the rest of your life.

when you don't respond, he takes a moment to contemplate his decision and weighing his options (a very gruelling task btw) and walks in to your scared space. suguru sits at the edge of your bed, careful not to disturb your very convincing performance.

it's not hard to keep your eyes closed. you can see him anyway. the way his dark hair is framing his face, providing the perfect contrast to make his violet eyes stand out more than they do, the way he's sitting, the soft and sharp lines that make up his face and neck. his steps sounded tired. you wish you would stop the charade and ask if he'd allow you to help him bathe, you'd wash his hair. dry it for him, remembering to put in all the products he loves to use (it's an arm workout i tell you) and braid it afterwards too.

he looks at you, you usually feel it when he does. and you wonder if it's common for people blush while sleeping. you wonder if he'll buy it. he doesn't. but he says nothing and so neither do you and continue on with your charade. he moves to sit on the ground next to your bed, and the absence of him is felt immediately. facing the wall you've decorated with paintings and posters, suguru wonders the inspiration behind them, the thoughtfully painted landscapes. he notices quite a few of them featuring the sun at various times of day, and the details carefully painted on what is usually simply done in a soild color. isn't the sun often only a supporting element in a painting? something in the background meant to accentuate the key elements?

i wanna ask about that sometime. why the sun?

shifting in you pretend sleep, you curl into the space he was just occupying. bringing yourself closer to him. now the back of his head only a breathe away from the kiss you desperately wish to blow him. he drinks from the glass he'd brought up with him and he starts speaking in that lovely voice of his.

he tells you all about his day and he doesn't spare any detail. he tells you about the dry lips he's had to deal with all day, satorus mischievous antics, the stray cat that reminded him of the white haired man, and one that reminded him of you. it's hard not to let out a chuckle at his awful misfortunes (the dry lip blues).

he speaks and speaks and it lulls you to sleep, you swear it works better than any lullaby could. for a moment you're thinking of him singing one to you, but before you get to finish the thought you're drifting off into a pleasant sleep.

feeling the weight of the day slowly leave his slumped shoulders. suguru is reluctant to leave your side. he doesn't wanna be without you, so he keeps your company and speaks until his words begin to slur together and the stories start to repeat. that night, suguru falls into a comfortable sleep, best he'd had in a while, on the floor next to your bed. feeling that he's home now.

____

when you awake the next morning, the alarms on your phone go off and your quick to shut it off. checking to see that you haven't woken him up. he slept there. you'd wished for it, but worried for his comfort. grabbing your blanket to cover him with, and trying to adjust him so he's more comfortable. he looks so pretty in his sleep. so at peace. a sight for sore eyes, first thing in the morning too. blessed is how it feels to know him.

taking a moment to admire him, you make a silent prayer he feels this way more often, and your off to be getting ready. making your way down the stairs, you check the time on your phone to see you're all good on time, you'd woken up quite tired, but felt the exhaustion leave your body at the sight of him sleeping soundly.

you make yourself breakfast, leaving a note for suguru on the counter with some fresh cut fruit and tea. he doesn't sleep in often, even in days he'd had a late night so your hoping his tea isn't cold when he gets to it, that it wraps him in a warm hug he'll feel from the inside out. you can only hope it gets him to think about you in all the ways you do him.

all you've got left to do is check to see that you have everything you need, keys, phone, your lip products (you've been warned of the grievances that come with dry lips), and all your other essentials before slipping on your shoes, grabbing your jacket from next to sugurus and making you way out the door. although, you don't quite remember that you've found your other shoe, or that you've put them there at all.

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djarinova · 2 days ago

Text

╰─▸ ❝ xavier ❞ ˋ*ੈ*⁀➷

content - biting, overstimulation, desperation

It was a complete accident the first time you had done it—a natural reflex from the overstimulation and desperation you felt from seeing him again. The two of you had been apart for almost a whole month and your communication had been few and far between. So the second his knuckles had tapped against your door you had flung it open, and within 5 minutes he had you bare, starfished on the bed and begging for him to touch you—and, of course, he had obliged.

You still remember how firmly his hands had cradled your thighs, the way he had seemed so serious about never letting you go. He took his time working towards where you ached for him the most, slowly planting kisses along your legs, licking stripes across your hips (leaving trails of saliva in his wake) and using his hands to massage the flesh of your thighs like he couldn't get enough of the feeling of your skin beneath his fingertips. But the moment his fingers had slipped between your folds he had whimpered like he was the one being pleasured.

He had taken his time that day, working orgasm after orgasm out of you like he had a quota to hit (which, after a month apart, maybe he did…) By the time he had slid up your tired body and straddled your waist you were struggling to keep your eyes open—much like Xavier usually is—but he, seemingly powering up after every orgasm he drew out of you, had become a ball of energy.

The incident itself had occurred just past the 2 hour marker, your legs were wrapped tightly around his waist, his head rested on your shoulder and his hands were cupping your ass. He was whispering sweet words into your ear—“you have no idea how much I missed this sweet pussy of yours, darling”, “you're doing so well for me”, “that's it, sweetheart, keep hold of me”—while all you could manage was a whimper of his name as he showed you with his cock just how much he had missed you.

His entire body weight was pressed against you, his hips working overtime as his thrusts got more and more desperate. And then it happened… the pleasure that was slowly creeping up on you suddenly exploded throughout your entire body—his dick was making you see stars and the way he was speaking was making the butterflies in your stomach go wild—so, with your eyes screwed shut and your breathing getting more and more wispy, you had done the only thing you could do.

You bit him.

Your teeth sunk down on his neck and it was like a fucking switch flipped in Xavier’s head. He couldn't have stopped himself from finishing even if he wanted to—and by God, he did not want to, with the way your pussy was squeezing him so tight all he wanted was for you to milk him for all he was worth. And he wanted you to do it again. And again. And again.

You had never heard him whimper like that, the pure desperation in his voice as he pleaded for more was utterly devastating, and all because of you.

You and your sharp love bite.

divider by @/saradika

#HSFGSJGJS????? IM GOING INSANE #sorry for being like this but #i just think #uhhhhhhhhh #he goes abit crazy when he hasnt seen you for a while #like yeah he's soft and he's chill #but.... he's still CRAZY for you #and he does not like it when he has to be away from you #my little clingy boy:(<3 #anyways .... biting w him <3 yeaaaahhhhhh #xavier lads x reader #xavier lads fic #xavier lads x you #xavier x reader #does this count as a blurb..... i say yes #sage.blurbs

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boybandbaby · 3 days ago

Text

The Sweet Escape Part V

911 AU (Prince!Evan Buckley x Fem!Baker!Reader)

previous part

word count: 4855

warnings/tags: smut (18+ minors please do not interact), cheating/homewrecking, unprotected p in v, biting, riding, slight nipple play, light choking, cream pie (I wish I had a baking joke to go along with this)

note: not sure when the next part will be out - haven’t planned past this chapter yet

─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ───

It’s been weeks since you’ve seen Buck and you truly miss him. You wonder if he misses you too. You’ve heard through Albert who’s heard through Chimney who’s heard through Maddie that Buck has been compliant lately. No arguing with his parents, actually learning King duties, helping out with the wedding.

You hope he’s doing well despite everything. Even after you heard him say that you mean nothing to him, his is still everything to you.

You beat yourself up everyday for pushing him away so cruelly. You tell yourself it is justified because of what he said.

You begin to replay your conversation with Chimney and Eddie from just last week.

“He’s miserable. He misses you so much.” Chim informs you.

“Did he tell you that?” You raise a brow and cross your arms over your chest.

“Well no, but I mean I see it on his face. You have to reach out to him.” Chim follows you as you move to sweep some crumbs off the floor.

“Guys, I appreciate what you’re doing but he’s getting married in a few days.”

“He should be marrying you. Everyone knows it.” Eddie says matter of factly.

“There’s nothing that can be done.” You sigh in defeat, handing Albert the broom to place back in its holding place.

“You could always object at the wedding?” Albert adds.

“Yeah right, the queen would have my ass.” You laugh. “She’d get the bakery shut down as punishment.”

“Maybe that’s true but you could still be there for him. He needs a friend.” Eddie shrugs.

“He has you guys, Hen, Bobby. He doesn’t need or want me around.”

“You can’t possibly believe that.” Eddie sasses.

“I heard him say it.” You blurt. “He said I don’t mean anything to him. He didn’t even know I was in the room when he said it.”

“It has to be a misunderstanding. I’ve seen the way he looks at you.” Chim leans against the counter, stealing a croissant from Albert.

“You should’ve heard all the whispers at the ball. Girls were jealous of the attention he was giving you, some of the parents thought you were already together. You both looked good together.” Eddie utters.

You feel your cheeks and neck get warm before turning your head down, trying to find something to busy yourself.

“Just… think about it. At least send him birthday wishes.”

There’s two soft knocks on Buck’s door. He groans, thought he told Eddie to go home to Chris.

Buck’s had a long day. He’s met so many different people, allies in which he should remain connected and respectful for future support. He’s taken a few classes on public speaking and history and a dance class for the wedding. He’s just gotten back from a charity event, while rewarding and eye opening, he’s ready to call it a night.

He chooses to ignore the knocks, shedding his blazer and shoes off. Two louder, more impatient knocks ring out.

“What the hell?” He grinds his teeth, suppressing a groan. He storms over to the door, whipping it open with force. The door is heavy but with his determination, he opens it up quickly, enough to create a gust of wind.

Your back is turned to the door, keeping an eye on the hallway and also ready to book it out of there. You jump when you feel the cold air and hear his annoyed tone. “What!?”

It’s quickly followed by a “Y/n, what are you doing here?” He is shocked to say the least. His voice comes out more soft than just moments before.

“Hi,” you whisper. “I wanted to see you.”

“You did?”

“Yeah, I’ve been thinking a lot about you.” You admit, shyly.

Buck looks around the hallway and pulls you into his room before anyone can see. You’d surely be in trouble if you were caught.

You’ve never been in his room before. You’ve never really been anywhere other than the kitchen and the ballroom before either. His room is somehow exactly as you’d suspected with a 4 post king size bed, long silky drapes, ceiling to floor windows, a fireplace, a leather couch. What you didn’t expect was for the little unique parts of him throughout. The pajama pants thrown onto the messy bed, a pair of slippers laid beside his bed, a cork board with a variety of pictures of friends and family, and a little bed side night light. The items seem so out of place in the grand aspect of his room.

Buck runs to tidy up a bit, hoping he’s not embarrassing himself in front of you. “I’m sorry. I haven’t let anyone in here to clean in a while.”

“It’s no problem. I stopped by unannounced.” You swing the basket in your hands. “Your room is bigger than our entire apartment.” You laugh, mouth open in awe as your fingers run along the back of his couch. “You have a balcony?”

Before he can answer, you’re running to the set of double doors and out into the night air. From his view you can see the layout of the land, from the yard around his home to the rows of trees that cover the path leading down to town. You can see the roofs of the familiar buildings you’ve grown up around.

You have to squint to really make out things but it still looks beautiful amongst the dark blue sky.

“I used to come out here a lot when I was younger. I would just sit and watch the sun rise and fall every day.” He leans over the railing a bit.

You keep a fist wrapped in the back of his dress shirt as he leans too far over for your liking. “You don’t do it anymore?”

“Don’t have time.” He shrugs, eyes flicking to the basket in your left hand. “What do you got there?”

“Oh! Um,” you set the basket on one of his lounge chairs and kneel down. Your skirt bunches up as you slink down to your knees. He loves that you don’t care about the balcony dirt getting on your skirt. It’s something so simple but it shows who you are.

He briefly thinks back to his fiancé and the meltdown she had this morning when one of the servants spilled a cup of coffee on the floor causing droplets to fall on her heels. Buck had to apologize for her outburst.

He watches you take out a small box. It’s wrapped in makeshift wrapping paper from a brown paper bag tied with a silky pink bow.

“Come here.” You beckon him over.

He’s in dress pants so he can’t get down to the floor unless he wants to further embarrass himself and split his pants. He sits on the chair beside your basket. “I know I’m early but happy birthday.”

“Wait, you remember my birthday?”

“Of course, it’s like a city wide holiday.” You laugh. “Plus you never shut up about it when we were kids. I know it’s not much really, but it’s from my heart.”

He unties the bow and pulls the wrapping off. Inside is The Finest Flour’s signature baby blue box, a clear window showing the little cake you made for him. It’s a small two tiered heart shaped cake, sage green frosting with white swirly accents. On top is a sparkly “25” in fondant.

“You made this for me?” He exhales, his eyes glossy.

“Yeah, I figured I’d make you a good cake with flavor since your wedding cake is bland as fuck.” You laugh. You only know because your bakery has been requested to make the wedding cake with specific instructions to “make sure it’s moist.”

Buck sets the box down and looks down at you. “Y/n, I-“

“You don’t have to say anything, Buck.”

“I do. I’m so fucking sorry. When I said you meant nothing to me, I didn’t mean it. You have to believe me.”

“How do you know that is why I was mad?”

“I figured it out surprisingly. I know I have a reputation for being a himbo but I’m not that dumb. Also, Hen helped me realize.” He chuckles.

“You’re not dumb at all.” You shake your head, “just not the smartest.” He snorts at that and doesn’t argue. “You know Chim and Eddie must really love you. They came to the bakery saying they wanted to visit Albert but the entire time the kept vouching for you like they were you’re lawyer or representative or something.” You shake your head with light laughter.

“I know you keep getting hurt by me and I don’t want you to. I would never want to hurt you y/n.” Buck reaches for your hand. You let him hold it.

“I know, Buck. You’re not like your parents or all the rich douchebags around here. You’re sweet and soft.”

“You think so?” He blushes.

“I know so.” You smile up at him. “How’s the wedding coming along? Sometime next week you’ll be married.”

“Let’s talk about anything else please.” He rubs his thumb over your knuckles. His eyes follow his movements before he slowly pulls away. “So, how are things with you and Albert?”

“It’s going really well.” You smile, hands falling to your lap. “I love having him around.”

“I’m really happy for you y/n, he’s a great guy and I know he’ll treat you right.”

“Wait.. what? We’re not together!” You laugh, “no, I mean he’s been really great help for the bakery.”

“Oh… tha-that’s good. I’m sorry I assumed.” He breathes a sigh of relief. You both smile softly at each other. Buck bites his lip while you shake your head, laughing to yourself.

“Well I should probably head out. Don’t want to get us both in trouble.” You reach your hands out to him, he stands and helps pull you up. “It was good seeing you.”

“Yeah.” He nods quickly. He uses your locked hands to pull you into him for a hug. His arms wrap around your upper back. You don’t hesitate to wrap yours around his waist. “I miss you.”

“I miss you too.” You pull back slightly. You decide you can only hold back slightly, your feelings for him are clearly still here and urging you to make a move. You know he’s an engaged man, soon to be married but you can’t seem to care.

You bring your lips to the apple of his cheek. Your lips are smooth and slightly sticky and scented with your favorite chapstick. You keep your lips there long enough to hopefully leave the ghost of the kiss there when you leave.

Just as you’re pulling away, youre stumbling backwards at the desperate force of Buck’s lips on yours. Before you can trip on the rug below you, his hands hold you in place. His hands are splayed over the sides of your neck as he pulls your face into his. The kiss is hot and cradles every part of your body, spreading over your skin. It feels like you’re in a sauna despite the cold air filtering in from the balcony.

Buck’s hands travel down to your hips as your steps mock his own, long and slow like a waddle, until you’re backed up against his bed.

“Jump.” He commands, voice low and light. When you do, his hands on your hips guide you up onto his bed. His bed is high up on its platform, definitely accommodating his tall height.

His bed is squishy and soft, like a cloud of cotton candy. He wastes no time in unbuttoning his dress shirt, a thin white tshirt under it.

He stands between your legs, holding into your thighs as you take over. You’re pulling the fabric from his shoulders and letting the shirt drop to the floor.

Buck undresses you slowly, savoring your scent and leaving kisses on your shoulders.

He lays you back onto the bed, pushing you up to fully enjoy the expanse of his mattress. His lips plant a kiss to your forehead, down the bridge of your nose, then your lips and chin.

He’s been respectful up until now, eyes glued to your face. Not until you say “keep going” does he give your collarbone a kiss and let his eyes roam your chest.

His body is planted on top of yours, with enough room between you both to move, he trails down your shoulders and chest, not missing any inch of skin.

Buck is licking and kissing down the slopes of your breasts, over your stomach and down your left hip. You’re squirming and giggling at his lips and growing stubble. He sucks marks down your inner thigh to the inside of your knee before he leaves a kiss.

“God, you smell amazing.” It’s a mix of sugar and cocoa powder on you. “I could just eat all of you.”

“Eat me or eat me out?” You look down at him as he runs a hand down your calf, kissing your ankle.

“Why not both?” He smirks.

“Maybe another time, I need you.” You pant. His kissing has worked you up, never having experienced a partner shower your entire body with love.

Buck stands at the edge of the bed, slipping his pants and socks off. His tshirt is next to go, thrown on the wooden footboard of the bed.

“Are you sure about this?” He asks, just in his boxers.

You sit up on your elbows to look at him. “I am. Are you?”

“So sure.” He smiles before shimmying his boxers down. He disappears for a moment as he bends down to take the boxers off his feet.

When he comes back up, the next thing you know is that his full weight is on you as he’s resting on his elbows. One of your arms is wrapped under one of his arms, your fingers running through the hair at the nape of his neck. Your fingers get caught in his curls but he doesn’t mind the little tug that happens every so often.

You’re getting restless under him as all he’s done is kiss you. His kisses are intoxicating but you need more.

“Buck,” You mumble against his lips.

“You need more, baby?” He whispers into your ear.

“Yes, please.” You shudder.

“Tell me exactly what you want.” He teases. You can’t think straight, you thought his kisses left you dizzy but then he called you baby.

“I want you inside of me.” You whisper, afraid someone other than you two will hear how bad you want him.

Now that Buck is sure you really want this, that you’re consenting to this, he nudges your thighs open. His hips slightly fall closer to the mattress as you make space for him.

“I need you to tell me when things don’t feel good or you want me to stop.” He holds his cock in his right hand, stroking gently while his left is holding him above you.

“Okay, okay.” You rush, feeling impatient. “Please Evan.”

Buck uses the tip of his cock to find your entrance. It’s not a perfect hole in one as he runs his tip along your folds. He can feel your body tense and he knows he’s at the right spot.

“Don’t tease me.” You warn.

He laughs, dropping his head to your shoulder. He pushes himself into you. It’s a slow stretch due to his size.

Your hands hold onto his shoulders, nails digging into the skin. You’re holding back, not wanting to hurt him. He has a different idea as his teeth sinks into your shoulder. It’s not too hard but there will definitely be indents of his teeth.

It feels like forever when he finally gets to the base of his member.

“How are you feeling?” He kisses the teeth marks.

“Full.” You laugh. “But good, really good.”

“Can I move?” He kisses the skin right in front of your earlobe just above your jaw.

“Yes, please. Been waiting for so long already.” You whine.

“Needy.” He jokes before pulling his hips away from yours and thrusting back into you slowly.

He starts slow and picks up the pace at your begging. Your hand goes back to pulling at his curls, the other is wedged between your bodies, fingers applying pressure to your clit. With every thrust, he feels your knuckles brush against his happy trail. His left leg shakes uncontrollably each time it does.

Your hand cramps from the position but you don’t stop, moving slowly in circles to keep building on your high.

He’s kissing your neck and shoulder, changing from simple pecks to sloppy kisses to sucking. His lips graze your jaw every so often sending a moan from your lips. He’s smiling against your skin, teasing you with his stubble. He loves the reactions he’s getting from you.

You’d never expected Buck to be a guy who enjoys and is good at slow sensual passionate sex. You’d always picture him as a guy who fucks like a jackrabbit, rough, fast and sloppy.

“I love feeling you on me.” You confess. “Every part of you feels so good.”

“Can’t believe I’m with you right now. Could spend hours exploring every inch and crevice of you.” He whimpers. “I love you, y/n.”

“Buck-“ You gasp, his hips pounding into you. You feel the tip of his cock hitting the same spot over and over.

“I do, I’m so in love with you.” His eyes are screwed shut.

“Evan, look at me.” You say between moans. Your bodies rock up and down and you’re clinging with sweat. He lifts his head to meet your eyes.

“I love you, too. So much.” You don’t even have the chance to smile because his lips are on yours again. You wrap your legs around his waist and pull him in closer, which you didn’t think could be possible.

“Holy shit, don’t stop.” You moan, your fingers are about to give out, clit practically burnt off by how fast you’re brushing your fingers over it.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck…” Buck mumbles into your neck. You don’t say anything out loud but you can feel his tears, dripping down his cheeks and pooling on your neck.

“Come on, handsome. We’re almost there.” You encourage. That’s all it takes for him to release. His hips stutter and he lets out a noise that’s similar to a groan, mouth open in an “ah.”

He clings to your shoulders, arms between your back and the mattress as he holds you tight. He has no control over his hips as he brings you to your high.

“Ohmygod, ohmygod.” You screech, thighs squeezing his hips as if you’re cracking a walnut. Your toes squeeze and flex, tickling his skin. His nose runs along your cheek as you whine out a long moan. “I-“

You can’t even get a word out as you shiver the tenseness out of your body. Your body goes slack, releasing his body. You laugh, completely overwhelmed by what just happened, not sure how to communicate your thoughts.

Buck just watches you with fond eyes, savoring this feeling. You shake your head, blinking. When you’ve come out of your haze, you meet his eyes.

Your thumbs brush his cheeks, damp with tears. “You okay?” He sniffles, giving you a nod. “Good tears?” He nods again. “Come lay beside me, wanna cuddle you.” You kiss his birthmark. Buck slowly pulls out, blowing out a breath of air and hissing when he is fully out of you.

He scoots himself into your side, head resting on your bicep, thick thigh thrown over to cover your lower half. One arm is squished beneath him and his other massages your hand. He feels the tension in your hand, milking out the forming cramp.

“You’re making me feel all tingly, Buckley.”

“You make me feel loved, y/n.” He bypasses your compliment. You don’t think you’ve ever heard him so serious.

“You deserve all the love in the world. Not because of your good looks or because you come from a well off family but because of your heart. You care so much about others.” You drop his hand to your chest, brushing aside his curls from his face. “I can’t wait for you to be King. You’re going to use your big heart to better not just yourself but those around you.”

“What if I don’t become King?” He whispers, his hand traveling up to your neck, running his thumb over your throat.

“Then what would you do?”

“I’ve always wanted to be a teacher.” He reveals. “I love kids. I would love to be able to help shape them into good people you know? Provide a safe space for them to grow and express themselves.”

“You’d be good at it. You’re patient and you make people feel welcome. When we first met, we’d never even spoken but you started speaking to me like we knew each other all our lives. You make people feel comfortable.”

“You think I could do it?”

“I know you could.” You smile. “Stay here.”

You pull your arm from under his head and grab the closest clothing item you can find. You press it to your chest to cover yourself. You tip toe over to the balcony to grab his cake.

“Should we try some?” You struggle to keep yourself covered as you hold the box on one hand.

“Ooh yes.” He claps before pulling part of the comforter he’s on, over his lap. He pulls a pillow under his head and upper back. You hand him the box and get a running start to jump onto his bed.

He’s laughing as he opens the box. You’d hoped he would want to eat with you so you’d provided two forks.

You cheekily pull the blanket off his lap and sit on his thighs. You pull the cake out of the box and rest it on his stomach like a table.

It’s almost his birthday and you want to spoil him while you have him. You give him the first bite of the cake. The moan he makes around the fork has you squirming on him.

“You know what? Forget the cake.” You rush to get it off of him and onto his nightstand.

Buck tucks his arms behind his head. He’s sprawled comfortably on his comforter. He watches as you lean over, pushing the cake to a comfortable spot where it won’t fall off.

You lean down to kiss him, cleaning the frosting off his lips. You suck his bottom lip into your mouth, biting it and dragging it open.

Buck sucks in a breath. “Let me take care of you.” You whisper against his mouth. He nods slowly, lips chasing yours as you lean back.

He’s just about to whine when you begin to suck on his neck. You creep down to his chest, not wanting to leave any noticeable marks. You decide to run your tongue over his pecs and close to his nipple. He curls in on himself, giggling.

“Don’t tickle me!”

“I wasn’t trying to!” You pinch his nipple.

“Okay, that was just mean. It’s my birthday, you have to be nice to me.”

“Oh? I have to?” You pinch his other one and he squeals. “I’ll be nice from now on.”

“You better.” His arms are crossed and his hands are covering his nipples from any further torment.

You start up again, kiss down his tummy, sucking the skin as you get lower. Buck is trying to stop the little spasms his body does every time you kiss him. He’s rock hard again in no time, hand lazily coming to stroke himself as he watches you shower his thighs in hickies.

“What do you want to do birthday boy?” You look up at him, though it’s hard with the stroking that’s happening in your line of vision as you try to look at his face.

“I wanna kiss you a little more.” He beckons you to come back up. His right hand strokes as his left hand comes to rest on your hip. His moving hand is tucked under you, continuing his movements as you lean down over him to kiss him.

Buck whimpers into the kiss and has to bite his lip to stop himself from making pathetic noises. He loses the battle when you ask if you can ride him.

In seconds, he’s lining himself up for you to sink down. His grip on your thighs helping guide you down onto him before going back behind his head. You both moan in unison at the feeling. Your pussy easily sucks him in this time.

His comforter pools around your thighs and calves as you slowly start to grind on him. The material caressing your legs with every move.

Your hands stretch across his abdomen, grounding your every movement. Your hips roll and roll as you fuck him. Buck relaxes into the bed, hands behind his head, simply watching the way your eyes scrunch with each forward thrust you make. Your head is dropped forward, your chin tucked almost to your chest.

Your movements are slow and rhythmic, calculated.

“You look so fucking hot.” He moans.

“You feel so good.” You cry out. “Love how you stretch me open.”

“Keep going baby, you’re taking me so well.” His voice is husky and breathless. “Don’t stop, please.”

Your hips speed up, causing Buck to flinch and buck his hips. His hands shoot out from behind his head to grip your hips as you begin to topple forward. His hands clutch to the fatty skin between your thighs and hips as he pulls you forward and back on his cock.

Your hands hold onto his outstretched biceps for stability when you begin to change from grinds to bounces.

“Oh shit.” Buck whispers through a soft gasp. “Right there.”

“Yeah?” You puff, exhaling deeply. “You want me to keep going?”

“Yes, yes please don’t stop.” He pleads, eyes droopy. His mouth opens but nothing comes out as his neck strains. You can see a vein on the side as he throws his head back. “You’re perfect.”

You put pressure onto Buck’s chest with your hands as you slam down into him. He’s close, that much you can tell by the way he whimpers and tenses.

“You look so fucking pretty like this, Evan.”

His entire chest is flushed red and he has a light sheen of sweat on his forehead. He’s glistening under you. Your orgasm is near as well, his trimmed hair tickling your clit with every move.

“Shit shit, I’m gonna cum again.” He thrusts up.

“Me too, handsome.” You moan, bringing your hand to his throat. You give it a gentle squeeze as you both ride out your highs. Buck’s given up any control as you watch him release.

Your orgasm comes quick and you clench around him, slowing your hips. Before you can come to a full stop, he’s wrapping his arms around your back and pulling you down to him.

You squeak and fall onto his chest. “Babe, hold on. We’re all sweaty.”

“Don’t care, just want to hold you.” He mumbles. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too. Happy birthday, pretty.” You kiss his temple and slowly pull from him. You feel like a piece of tape, struggling to get out of his arms and skin sticking to his own.

The breeze from the open doors soothed the hotness in your body. You’re still trying to catch your breath as you begin to collect your clothes.

“Stay the night?” He sits up, resting on his elbow and reaching for your hands.

“Buck, we both know that’s not a good idea. As much as I would love to stay, we don’t want to get caught.” You grab his hands and kiss his knuckles. You let his hands go to get dressed.

“When will I see you again?” He gets up from the bed and slips on a clean pair of boxers and his pajamas pants.

“Soon, I promise.” You pull him into a kiss by the waistband of his pants. “Have a great birthday.”

He nods and holds a hand onto the back of your head, bringing his lips to your forehead. You’re both smiling like idiots as he opens his door.

“I’ll walk you to the kitchen.”

“I’ll walk her to the kitchen, goodnight Evan.” You both jump at the sound of Athena’s voice.

“I-“

“Goodnight.” Athena emphasizes and looks between the two of you.

Buck nods and gives a small wave. His hand squeezes your shoulder and moves up to cup your neck before he’s closing the door.

“You best get back home y/n, before someone else catches you.” She kindly scolds. You can see a faint smile on her lips as she escorts you through the palace and to the kitchen. “Don’t make this a habit y/n. I won’t always be around to save you and Buck.”

“Yes ma’am.” You bite your lip and get your bike started. She watches you drive off and shakes her head with a laugh.

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next part (coming soon)

#911 abc #911 x you #evan buckley x reader #911 x reader #evan buckley x y/n #evan buckley x you #evan buckley

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